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THE CRUISE OF THE 
HIPPOCAMPUS 




. . And then the delectable 28-foot Hippocampus sailed into 
my life — *' and down to Panama 



THE CRUISE OF THE 
HIPPOCAMPUS 



BY 
ALFRED F. LOOMIS 



ILLUSTRATIONS FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS 




NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 

1922 






Copyright, 1922, by 
The Century Co. 



Copyright, 1921, 1922, by 

The International Magazine Company, 

(Motor Boating) 



PRINTED IN V. 8. A. 



AUG 24 1922 
©CI.A681505 



To 
P. L. 



CONTENTS 

PAGM 

I The Preliminary Hardships 3 

II Hippocampus Sees It Through .... 22 

III Head Wind and Showers of Rain ... 44 

IV Misfortune Overtakes Us 66 

V We Touch Foreign Soil 92 

VI Such Things as Waterspouts 112 

VII Beating Up to Windward 136 

VIII Divers Experiences . . . . . . .159 

IX Rolling Down to Colon 185 

X The Journey's End ........ 212 

XI Concluding Thoughts on Sailing . . . 233 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

". . . And then the delectable 28-foot Hippocampus 
sailed into my life — " and down to Panama 

Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Thanks to the camera's habitual generosity, the cabin 

of the Hippo looks even larger than it is . . . 16 

In the days antecedent to launching the yawl the skip- 
per wore a look of worried determination . . 16 

Underway in the East River the crew straightened up 

on deck in readiness for the official departure . 17 

Chambers (at the tiller) was the only man of the crew 

of three who had prior knowledge of sailing . . 17 

With her mainsail loosely furled, the Hippo motored 

down the coast, waiting for another slant . . 32 

Squibb, commissary and Sea-Going Gadget, measures 

his length along the boom while under way . . 32 

Viewed from any standpoint that you choose, the Hip- 
pocampus is a trim, able little vessel . . . .33 

Loomis, in the dress uniform of tropical cruising, bags 

big celestial game with the sextant .... 33 

Airing bedding after the battle of Fenwick Shoals . 64 

Squibb had a bad habit of washing before breakfast 64 

Photographed from a sea buoy, the Hippo seemed in- 
deed the smallest ship that has ever sailed to Colon 65 

At Jacksonville Chambers varnished the mizzen, un- 
affected by the splendor of the new lift bridge 65 

Drying clothes after the avalanche had hit the yawl 

and neatly divided the dink in two parts . . 80 

Only three planks were crushed by the ten-ton rock, 

and they were readily replaced in Jacksonville . 80 

On the few occasions that the wind was fair, the 

Hippo raced like the sea horse that she is . . 81 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAGB 

The public and exceedingly efficacious baptism of a 

band of negroes in the waters of the St. Johns 81 

Eagle 39 would gladly have given the Hippocampus 

a tow if she hadn't been in need of one herself . 96 

So the yawl hooked on to the escorting navy tug and 

whiled away a hundred miles of utmost ease . 96 

At the lowest estimate, 943,261 Americans have 
snapped Morro Castle since the dawn of prohi- 
bition 97 

Havana harbor has come vividly to life in recent 

years, but sailing ships still give it color . . 97 

Bahia Honda still drives its ox-teams, undisturbed by 

the frenzied Fordingos of Havana's streets . 112 

At the entrance to Cienfuegos Hippocampus anchored, 

250 years too late to be attacked by pirates . .112 

Amateur equilibrists on the teetering pole of the Cien- 
fuegos sharkproof swimming enclosure . . .113 

Breakfast eggs, at ten cents apiece, taste like molten 

gold when cooked with feminine finesse . . .113 

Taking 'em over the bow, but undaunted, the yawl 

bucked the Northeast Trade of the Caribbean . 144 

The lee rail awash, every stitch of sail drawing, and 

cruising life at the acme of enjoyment . . .144 

One minute Chambers and Loomis trolled from a line 

astern, attractive bait for marauding sharks . 145 

And the next the surface of the water was cut by dor- 

sel fins. But they were purposeless porpoises . 145 

The diver wore a worried, thoughtful expression, for 

there are sharks also in Kingston Harbor . .176 

Lying beside the salvage tug, Hippo revealed that it 

isn't mere inches that makes seaworthiness . .176 

Hauled out on the United Fruit Company's ways at 
Kingston, all hands got busy with the paint 
brushes 177 

Six hours later, her sides and bottom painted, Hippo 
took the water with something like a sigh of 
relief 177 

Guests used to think that the dink although admirable 

in other respects, came a little short of dignity 192 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING PAGB 

Two of the members of the crew striving to look 
pleased while raising a thirst on the Myrtle Bank 
lawn ........ 192 

Only in Jamaica can one swim in the chill fresh water 
of a rushing river and float down into the briny 
sea * 193 

Roaring River Falls, Jamaica, where the stream drops 
from the skyline to wind through a grove of 
cocoanuts 193 

Already the masonry of the upper level of the Gatun 

Locks, Panama, wears an air of remote antiquity 224* 

The giant double gates of Miraflores, with the huge 

protective chain in place to avert accidents . .224 

Squibb and Chambers enacting the comedy, "Why 
Boys Leave Home; or the Succulence of Banana 
and Sugar Cane" 225 

Not a Fatu-Liva bird from the famous Filbert Is- 
lands, but a young toucan looking square at the 
photographer , 225 

Native craft loaded with produce and stranded at 
market time on the gently sloping beach at Pan- 
ama City 240 

In the middle distance lies Hippo, at her journey's 
end; beyond her the misty islands of Panama 
Bay 240 

A United States cruiser approaching Culebra Cut, her 

ensign dipped in answer to the Hippo's salute . 241 

Moored to a buoy in Gatun Lake, Hippocampus has 

the air of giving as good as she receives . . .241 



THE CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 



THE CRUISE OF THE 
HIPPOCAMPUS 



THE PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

FOR the last few weeks I Ve had a great deal 
of sympathy for Noah — not Noah Webster 
who wrote the English language and made it pos- 
sible for me to earn a precarious living, but the 
original Noah, who, as some of my readers are 
aware, made a historic cruise in a small boat. 
What his trials and tribulations may have been 
when he eventually got under way with a crew of 
griffins, dragons, dodos, and all the other parlor 
animals of his time does not concern me at the 
present moment; it fills me with gloom to think 
of the job he must have had getting them to re- 
port to the officer of the deck with their bags and 
hammocks. 

I can imagine a young rhinoceros, who up to 
the moment of sailing has been keen to make the 

3 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

cruise, pausing ponderously at the foot of the 
gangplank, giving the architecture of the ark the 
once-over, and telling old Noah that his father 
won't let him go. What does Noah do ? Look up 
another rhino when he should be supervising the 
activities of the chimpanzees in the rigging? Or 
does he decide to go short-handed? And I can 
picture a sea-going lion presenting his regrets at 
the last moment because business at his lair won't 
permit his absence for even a few months. 

Captain Noah must have had his difficulties 
with every last member of the ship's company, 
and the fact that he finally got under way with 
two or more of each species is greatly to his credit. 
I dwell on the subject a little more than might be 
considered necessary because I 've had a trial or 
two and half a dozen tribulations getting together 
a crew for a cruise to Panama. Not that I plan 
to take a menagerie with me. My search was 
confined strictly to the human race ; but I know, 
nevertheless, how Noah felt. 

Offhand you would say that every American 
of the masculine persuasion who was n't tethered 
to the grave by one leg would jump at the oppor- 

4 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

tunity of sailing a yawl from Hell Gate to Bal- 
boa. As a matter of fact, I have proved by adver- 
tising and by personal solicitation there are only 
two along the entire Atlantic seaboard who can 
cut loose and make the trip. Circumstances per- 
mitting, these two will be sailing down the coast 
with me on the twenty-eight-foot auxiliary yawl 
Hippocampus before the month is out. 

When an ex-navy friend wrote me that he was 
contemplating a cruise to San Francisco and was 
looking for a fourth man to make up a crew, I 
wrote twice, telegraphed once, and put in a long- 
distance call to say that he could count me in. 
And I remember telling him and reiterating in 
each communication that I was all the more keen 
about the cruise because it originated with him 
and his two friends and so would not be subject 
to the usual withdrawals of crew members. 
Those were idle words. 

A week later the four of us met in New York 
and enthusiastically discussed ways and means- 
ways of finding a suitable boat and means for 
paying for it when we had located it. That done, 
I developed a sort of formula which I pro- 

5 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

pounded to each of the three in turn. I said: 
"I 'm glad you took the initiative in suggesting 
this cruise, because I know you won't back out 
before it starts. But are you determined to 
carry it through to the finish of the cruise or of 
the boat or of us?" Each said he was full of 
determination and we let the matter rest. 

It rested for two weeks while we corresponded 
about our adventures in boat-hunting, and then 
one of them wrote as spokesman for the three that 
they had had to abandon the idea. Money was 
tight and they were going to cruise overland to 
the Pacific coast. They were sorry, but business 
came before pleasure. I was sorry, too, for by 
that time I had contracted with the magazine 
"Motor Boating" to write a story of the cruise, 
and it did n't look like a single-handed proposi- 
tion. I might have backed out myself if the 
March issue of the magazine hadn't appeared 
with an announcement of the forthcoming cruise 
which put it distinctly up to me to find not only 
the boat but an entirely new crew. I called on 
my three friends in their home town to urge them 
to reconsider — and found them as much inter- 

6 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

ested in road maps and a pair of patent tweezers 
which they planned to peddle en route to the 
Golden Gate as previously they had been ex- 
cited about charts and navigators' dividers. 

From that moment I commenced to sympa- 
thize with Noah. Everybody else to whom I 
broached the subject wanted to go, and nobody 
could go. Some had family ties, others business 
obligations, and still others legitimate causes for 
keeping them at home. Whatever the cause, 
the effect was the same, and I was no nearer to 
getting my ship's complement. Two or three 
who really could have gone unfolded the novel 
idea of writing a story about the cruise, and these 
I had to reject because of professional jealousy 
— my own. 

My search was complicated by reason of the 
fact that I am more a motor-boatman than a 
sailor; and this is to be a cruise with sail and 
power combined. I had to find at least one man 
of a crew of three who knew sailing from A to 
X, so that my deficiencies in the gentle art of 
wind- jamming might not prove fatal in a crisis. 
Had I listened to the advice proffered me at this 

7 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

juncture I would have withdrawn myself from 
the list of possibilities and turned the cruise over 
to any three professional sailors who cared to 
take it up. One friend told me all the harrowing 
details of coming through a West Indian hur- 
ricane with nothing but a life-preserver to hide 
his embarrassment; another advised me of the 
suicidal risk of putting to sea in a sailboat with- 
out at least five seasons' experience behind me; 
and one and all gloomed so effectively that again 
I was on the point of giving up the cruise. 

But I kept in mind the good luck of other 
amateurs who have sailed the seven seas on 
faith and intuition, and I persisted to the end 
that I now have the ideal crew. The first 
mate is an ex-sub-chaser man with twenty years' 
experience in sailing large and small craft. 
He will keep me from jibing when I ought to 
luff, and in time may hope to teach me the 
difference between a yawl and a ketch. The 
second, who is co-owner of the Hippocampus, 
is no more a wind-jammer than I am, but al- 
ready he swings a wicked paint-brush, and 
there is that about him which tells me that he '11 

8 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

be full of nerve and pep long after I 'm too tired 
to haul on a sheet or lean my weight against the 
tiller. When it comes to an emergency the 
crew will be there and the skipper may take his 
shut-eye with a clear conscience. 

My difficulties in obtaining a crew were coin- 
cidental with my efforts to procure a proper boat 
to put them in. At first blush it seemed an easy 
task to find a yawl of thirty- or thirty-five-foot 
over-all length, powered with a twelve or fifteen 
H. P. motor, and capable of holding together in 
a double-reef breeze. My friend who sug- 
gested the cruise had in mind a sloop that could 
be had for $300 or $400, and he argued that be- 
cause she had stayed afloat for thirty or forty 
years she could reasonably be expected to last 
through another season. But I preferred a 
craft with divided sail, and when he withdrew 
from the venture I did n't bother to inspect this 
ancient packet, 

Nevertheless I did spend a day in Newport, 
looking over a sloop of twenty summers that had 
been used successfully for pilot duty out of Nar- 
ragansett Bay. She was a work-boat with trim 

9 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

yachty lines, and as she bobbed at her mooring 
in a swell working its way in from the sea she 
had a nice buoyancy that was fascinating. A 
recollection stole over me of the good old days 
on the sub-chasers when * we shot the heavens 
while holding on with our shoulder-blades or lay 
prone on the chart-house deck to pore through 
the tables of Bowditch, and I wondered if I 
could be happy at sea in any craft that was n't 
lively and frisky. On the point of signing along 
the dotted line, I was deterred by the suggestion 
of a friend that I give him opportunity to in- 
quire into her soundness. 

He made inquiry of a disinterested boat- 
builder, and I learned to my regret that the 
sloop was a whited and red-leaded sepulcher. 
She was good superficially, but her heart was 
false, and she could almost be guaranteed to 
open up when the nearest land was directly 
underneath me. That was enough. I have 
cruised the top side of the Atlantic and to some 
extent along both edges of it, but I have no 
desire yet to explore its shady side. 

Upon my return to Ntew York from this 

10 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

fruitless expedition I began a tour of investiga- 
tion that was as disheartening as it was com- 
prehensive. Whenever I got wind of a yawl that 
was within my means I found that she had been 
sold the day before, and each time I lost con- 
sciousness at sight of photographs and specifi- 
cations of the ideal boat I was brought to with 
the intelligence that she could not be bought for 
less than five figures. As I went from yacht- 
broker to editor and from friend to philosopher 
my spirits ebbed and ebbed, and on a hot, sticky 
day of March I abandoned the idea of the cruise. 
More from force of habit than from any remain- 
ing vestige of hope, I dragged my ex-sea-going 
legs to the office of another yacht-broker and 
told him the story of my disappointed ambition. 
He listened sympathetically and agreed em- 
phatically that there was not an auxiliary on the 
market of the length of hull and pocketbook that 
I specified. "But," he continued brightly, "I 
have the disposal of a twenty-eight-foot auxili- 
ary yawl that answers your other requirements, 
and if you care to come down in length and go 
up in price there 's not another boat in America 

11 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

that will better suit you." He reached into a 
drawer and withdrew plans, specifications, and 
photographs of the twenty-eight-foot Helenette 
II, and I knew from that moment that the cruise 
would go on. Details of inspection, of purchase, 
and of completing my crew would come later. 
I dated the history of my cruise from that 
moment. 

So now while Helenette II ', her name changed 
back to the original Hippocampus, lies at a yard 
in New Rochelle waiting for launching on a high 
tide that accompanies the next full moon, I come 
to a description of the craft to whose timbers 
and rigging has been entrusted the task of taking 
us to the tropics. Already, after only a month's 
acquaintance with her, she has taken a place in 
my affections that no other boat has occupied, 
and my appreciation of her is growing day by 
day. When she changes hands again — as she 
must at the conclusion of the cruise — I know that 
I shall mourn the passing of a tried and faith- 
ful friend. 

Hippocampus, as she was christened when 
launched by J. E. G. Yalden, of Leonia, New 

12 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

Jersey, was built in 1916 and is as new to-day 
as she was when water first kissed her keel. De- 
signed by Fred Goeller, Jr., she embodies his 
ideals of what a small, sea-going yawl should be; 
and built by Neils Jacobsen, of Nyack, New 
York, she boasts a ruggedness and honesty in 
which any yachtsman must glory. Mr. Yalden 
put much of his own time and enthusiasm into 
the building of his yawl and personally satisfied 
himself that every stick that went into her was of 
the finest quality. After her completion he 
sailed her for a few months, and then, a multi- 
plicity of other interests engaging his attention, 
he sold her to William F. Caesar, of New York. 
If the origin of the Hippocampus was aus- 
picious, her ownership under Mr. Caesar was no 
less favorable; because he considered her the 
finest of the dozen or more boats that he has 
owned, and kept her at the top notch of her effi- 
ciency. He has sailed and lived aboard her for 
four seasons, and this spring she needed only 
paint, varnish, and a rearrangement of her fuel 
and water tanks to fit her for a trip around the 
world. 

13 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

The Hippocampus, as has been said, is a 
twenty-eight-foot auxiliary yawl, but she is the 
biggest ship of her inches that ever put to sea and 
stayed there until her owner was ready to bring 
her in. She has a beam of nine feet eleven inches, 
a water-line length of twenty-three feet three 
inches, and a draft of five feet. A keel boat, 
with iron on her keel, and shaped iron ballast in- 
board, she is declared to be as steady as a rock 
and as able as a battle-ship. If this is so my 
first mate and I will miss that old sub-chaser 
roll, but my second, who never saw anything in 
the war more exciting than a few big advances 
with a battery of French seventy-fives, may re- 
joice that he won't have to learn to anchor him- 
self to his bunk by personal magnetism. 

She is laid out with a chain-locker and stowage 
space forward communicating without bulkhead 
or partition with a large trunk-cabin in which 
there are two full-length bunks. Between 
them forward is a yacht toilet, and on the star- 
board side aft is a narrow chest of drawers fol- 
lowed by a full-length clothes-locker. Tucked 
away in the clothes-locker is an acetylene gas 

14 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

tank which lights a single jet on the starboard 
side. On the port side abaft the bunk is a minia- 
ture galley with a two-burner oil-stove, and be- 
hind and around and underneath that stove there 
is more plate and pan shelfage than would be 
expected in a boat of at least twice twenty- 
eight feet. 

Beneath the companionway ladder (and here 
we come to the part of the boat that reminds 
me of the Long Island Railroad slogan: "This 
may save your life to-day" ) is a two-cylinder, two- 
cycle, 8-10 H. P. Palmer engine connecting. to re- 
versing clutch and twenty by twenty-four inch 
Thompson feathering propeller. The motor has 
been used long enough in five years to wear it in 
thoroughly and remove its pristine stiffness, but 
the former owner was a sailboatman primarily 
and used his power only when going through ex- 
tremely narrow winding passages. The same 
procedure will be followed under the present 
ownership, but as I am unaccustomed to obey- 
ing the behest of calms and contrary winds I may 
turn more often to the flexible, controllable power 
of gasolene. 

15 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

To that end the thirty-gallon water-tank on the 
port side of the narrow cockpit has been con- 
verted to a gasolene-tank, giving a total of sixty- 
gallons' fuel capacity and a cruising radius under 
power alone of about 200 miles. Two new forty- 
gallon tanks, especially made for the Hippo- 
campus, have been installed in the f orepeak, and 
with eighty gallons of water available we hope 
to struggle through a possible but unhoped-for 
tour at sea of as much as a month. If the boat 
were larger the tank capacity would be greater, 
but under the circumstances we shall have to 
control our thirst or satisfy it otherwise than with 
water. 

Aside from the tank rearrangement, the only 
change in the boat's equipment is the installation 
of a pipe-berth with kapok cushion. By this 
means the sleeping accommodation has been com- 
fortably increased to three ; and inasmuch as one 
man will always be on watch at sea, the pipe- 
berth will be required only in port. As a means j 
of insurance against future trouble rather than 
because of present necessity the yawl has been 
provided with a suit of new ten-ounce sails, 

16 




Thanks to the camera's habitual generosity, the cabin of the 
Hippo looks even larger than it is 




Photographs by M. Rosenfeld 

In the days antecedent to launching the yawl the skipper wore 
a look of worried determination 




Photograph by M. Rosenfeld 

Underway in the East River the crew straightened up on deck 
in readiness for the official departure 




Chambers (at the tiller) was the only man of the crew of three 
who had prior knowledge of sailing 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

which we expect to break out and bend on when 
we strike the northeast trades. 

The cockpit is no more than a narrow well, 
but there is ample deck room on each side of 
it, while abaft it is a lazarette into which a two 
months' supply of provisions can conveniently 
be stowed. The Hippocampus is controlled by 
tiller, and under jib and jigger is said almost 
to steer herself. 

The navigational equipment is no more than 
is required for a trip of this nature, but is per- 
haps a little more inclusive than the average 
for a boat of the length of the Hippo — to give 
her at the outset her inevitable nickname. Most 
important is an eight-day chronometer purchased 
from the navy and of the type used on sub- 
chasers and other small naval craft. If it runs 
according to form it will have a losing rate for 
a week or so, a gaining rate for the succeeding 
two weeks, zero variation for the following nine 
or ten days — and so on. But if it does no worse 
and is abused no more than the chaser instru- 
ments it will see us through with satisfactory ac- 
curacy. 

17 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

Next on the list in point of interest comes an 
octant which I purchased from an Austrian in 
Triest shortly after the termination of the war. 
Were it stamped with a Teutonic name I should 
have reason to distrust it, but as its point of 
origin was Cardiff, I believe it to have been taken 
from a submarined Britisher, and so respect it in- 
trinsically as well as sentimentally. It played 
its part in a chaser race from Bermuda to New 
York in August of 1919 and is accustomed to 
the kind of warfare that any precision instrument 
encounters in small-boat usage. 

In addition we have a four-inch boat-compass 
of the spirit type, barometer, log, hack watch, 
and the necessary charts and navigational publi- 
cations, and two of us are equipped with experi- 
ence in piloting and in deep-sea navigation. If 
memory, chronometer, octant, and Bowditch all 
go by the board, the order of the day will be to 
head west until a large continent is sighted. If 
the compass mutinies we shall try to distinguish 
sunrise from sunset and to some extent be guided 
by our bumps of location. 

For this cruise is n't going to be one of your 

18 









PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

deadly serious, methodical, undeviating voyages. 
It will be a get-there cruise, but we shall not be 
committed to any itinerary except that we shall 
run down the Atlantic coast to the West Indies, 
jump from Jamaica to Colon, and pass through 
the Panama Canal. We shall welcome advice 
as to course and intermediate stops from experts 
en route, and if we are particularly advised to go 
to or keep away from any island or stretch of 
coast we shall stand off or head in as the inclina- 
tion moves us. 

We are not undertaking the cruise to prove 
anything or to establish any precedent in small- 
boat sailing. Having no old worries to sail 
away from we absolutely refuse to entertain any 
new ones regarding the strength of wind and 
treachery of currents ahead. We plan merely 
to take a voyage which in the aggregate is longer 
than the average but which is composed of a 
number of three- or four-day jumps, such as any 
well-found boat might take if its owner had the 
time at his disposal. If the experience stimu- 
lates the sport of yachting, or if the passage of 
an auxiliary through tropical waters spreads the 

19 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

gospel of American motor-boating, others be- 
sides ourselves will derive benefit from the 
cruise. We, however, shall take the cream of the 
enjoyment. 

Some of the friends whom I have acquired 
since I started work on the boat have been a 
little skeptical about the success of the expedi- 
tion. They think, not without reason, that I 'm 
a landlubber who is biting off more than he can 
digest in a sea-way. But in my own defense 
I must say that I look a little less sophisticated 
than I am, even though my careless habit of 
speech sometimes betrays me. Yesterday, for 
instance, when I was rubbing down the hoops 
on the mainmast preparatory to varnishing them, 
I remarked casually that it would be awkward at 
sea to have to unstep the mast in order to re- 
place a broken hoop by threading the mast 
through a new one. My shipmate replied en- 
couragingly that we could use the power while 
this threading process was taking place, and we 
let the conversation lapse. 

But an old salt who was standing by overheard 
us and with a pitying look in his eye volunteered 

20 



PRELIMINARY HARDSHIPS 

the information that new hoops could be riveted 
in place without unstepping the mast. I ac- 
cepted the information meekly, but I know that 
that old salt thinks I belong to the class of sailors 
who in passing under a fixed bridge will cut a 
hole in the bridge to give them headroom. Per- 
haps I do; but as soon as the moon gets full 
(if it ever does in these dry days), the Hippo- 
campus will take the water and her crew will 
head away from fixed bridges and advice and into 
the roll of the deep blue sea. After that we shall 
see what we shall see. 



21 



II 

HIPPOCAMPUS SEES IT THROUGH 

PROMPTED by the kindliest feelings in the 
world, the unofficial board of relatives and 
friends of the tribe of Hippocampi warned us 
of adverse weather conditions along every stretch 
of the 3000-mile run to Panama except that in 
which she received her baptism of storm. Con- 
sequently, when the start was made from New 
York, the outer entrance to the Delaware River 
meant nothing to us. Now it marks the spot 
where the crew of the sea-going twenty-eight- 
foot yawl learned that she will take any zephyr 
that travels from here to there at no greater 
velocity than seventy-five miles an hour. 

Less than two days out of New York we 
bumped into a gale that sent the other small fry 
scooting for safety to Atlantic City, Cape May, 
and the Delaware Breakwater, and started our 
wherry on an uncharted cruise of its own; but 

22 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

we held our course and weathered it in man-o'- 
war style. When it comes to sailing in light airs 
or whole gales the Hippo is there. 

At the last writing, less than a month ago, 
Hippocampus was on dry land at New Rochelle, 
with the swish of paint-brushes filling the April 
atmosphere. But before the full moon brought 
its spring tides she was ready for the water, 
and on April 24 slid into her element with some- 
thing closely resembling a sigh of relief. In- 
spection revealed that except for a few open 
cocks and drain-plugs in various parts of the 
engine's anatomy she was tight. These valves 
I had neglected to close, and they merrily filled 
the bilge while we busied ourselves on deck. 
After the steady drip of water had discovered 
them to us, however, the accumulation was 
pumped out and her keel has remained virtually 
dry except on the night of the storm, to which 
we are coming by degrees. 

One other little oversight nearly marred the 
launching. Just after I had let go the anchor, 
the first and second mates, who were in a skiff at 
the business end of the tow-line, called my atten- 

23 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

tion to an imposing sign which tardily informed 
us that we were over a cable crossing and were 
requested not to anchor. To remember every- 
thing all at once is difficult for me, and it was 
much more good luck than intelligence that 
saved me from fouling the cable. But no harm 
was done, and under the direction of Al Cham- 
bers, the second in command and the first in sail- 
ing knowledge, we sorted out the running rigging 
and got the blocks and lines in place. 

For the next few days we were favored by 
good weather which permitted us to clear up the 
odds and ends ; but on the sailing date, Thursday 
the twenty-eighth, so many were the pieces of 
equipment still to be collected from various 
sources that we were unready to start. We 
should have got under way the next day if it 
had n't been Friday and if the rain had n't pre- 
vented the taking of pictures, and Saturday saw 
us still lying at Port Washington, to which we 
had put from my home port of Huntington. As 
the preceding night was the first on which the 
whole crew had slept aboard, this becomes a pro- 
pitious moment for introducing them. 

24 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

John Albert Chambers, an ex-sub-chaser man 
and j . g. lieutenant in the reserve, may be recog- 
nized in the accompanying pictures by the busy 
expression on his face. He comes from Salem, 
Massachusetts, where they sail boats the day 
after leaving the cradle; and what he doesn't 
know about small-boat handling has yet to be 
discovered. Under the direction of George Le 
Sauvage, friend of all sub-chaser men in the 
World War, he saved New York from the sub- 
marines, and after that went across as far as the 
Azores, and with the conclusion of festivities re- 
turned to the West Indies to give the Virgin 
Islands and Islanders a treat. Three years of 
service in the S. C.'s endowed him with a roving 
foot, and now he is happiest when we are under 
way. 

Paul Squibb, second mate, engineman, and 
sea-going commissary extraordinary, has done 
all his boating in the Bay of Fundy and is only 
thoroughly contented when the tide is battling 
with the wind and lifting the waves higher than 
the main truck. When a gale tries to yank the 
sticks out of the boat and the combers rake her 

25 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

fore and aft, Squibb lends his oilers to Chambers 
and stays below, reading aloud information about 
lights and buoys, and catching the silverware on 
its way from the galley to the bilge. Just one 
thing about nautical life perplexes Squibb. He 
can't savvy the barometer. Although he has 
studied it from every angle and made due al- 
lowances for the frailty of man-made instru- 
ments, he still believes that it is affected by the 
law of storms. But we are not with him. We 
saw it fall from 29.95 to 29.59 and bring a north- 
easter, rise again to 29.78 and bring another, re- 
main stationary for twenty-four hours and fetch 
a third; and we know that it is absolutely law- 
less. 

Introductions having been accomplished, we 
find all hands at their mooring stations off the 
Manhasset Yacht Club. Getting under way on 
the morning of Saturday, April 29, we sailed out 
of the bay with a fair wind and down the Sound 
to Throgs Neck, where the breeze died away and 
the little two-cylinder Palmer got busy. The 
hour of departure had been calculated for a 
rendezvous with Rosy, the sea-going photog- 

26 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

rapher, in his cruiser Foto, and it was anything 
but favorable for a quick run down the East 
River ; but, bucking a head tide, we slowly forged 
ahead, and by two in the afternoon were secured 
at the Twenty-third Street station of the New 
York Yacht Club. There in a damp and dis- 
mal rain, which had held off until the pictures 
were taken, we said good-by to ex-sub-chaser 
men of assorted sizes and to other friends and 
relatives and received the parting blessings of 
numerous kind-hearted citizens. 

These blessings took the very tangible form 
of items of ship's equipment and included the 
following valuable articles: One two-burner 
stove with enough canned fuel to keep us in fried 
eggs for a month of Sundays; one mechanical 
stethoscope for testing the heart-action of the 
motor; one boat-cushion which has already 
lightened the hours of duty at the tiller (but 
which, be it hoped, may never exercise its life- 
saving function) ; two seven-foot ash oars which 
at present repose in the hold mourtiing the lost 
wherry; and a mate's sextant. This princely 
bon voyage present is a ten-second instrument 

27 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

that thrills the hand that holds it. With its 
full equipment of telescopes it promises to give 
me some of the happiest moments of the cruise; 
for, when all is said and done, the best part 
of sailing or motor-boating is deep-sea naviga- 
tion. 

With every square inch of stowage room filled 
until the rotund sides of the little hippopotamus 
seemed to bulge still farther, and with a rain- 
proof photographer standing by to catch a quar- 
tering view of us, we shoved off from the wharf 
at 5:55 and headed down the bay under power. 
Such wind as there was was contrary, but as 
the glass hadn't been doing much of anything 
for several hours we figured on the unheralded 
approach of a northeaster. So when we had 
passed through the Narrows we headed for 
Gravesend Bay to lie for the night in the lee of 
Bensonhurst, of blessed memory. 

In the morning the wind was blowing stiffly 
from the expected quarter, bringing with it a 
drenching downpour of rain ; and the day seemed 
inauspicious for a cruise that will take us through 
the tropics in the full drip of the rainy season. 

28 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

Wherefore we decided to devote Sunday to 
prayerful consideration of the last-minute de- 
tails which had been neglected, and first and fore- 
most hauled in to Andy's gas dock at Ulmer 
Park to replenish our various tanks. In making 
the landing the wind caught our bow at about 
the time the ship had more sternway than she 
could comfortably carry, and we shivered the 
mizzen boom on the unyielding exterior of a 
twelve-inch pile. Right away Al Chambers — 

(But here let me interpolate a word about the 
duplication of "Als" aboard ship. At first it 
was thought that when Squibb said, "Hey, Al," 
there would be confusion as to the identity of 
the Al intended. The difficulty has since re- 
moved itself, however, for when he says,"Al, get 
your chow," I know he means me, and when it 
is "Al, bear a hand here," I guess he means 
Chambers. So that is that, as the novelists are 
given to saying.) 

After the carrying away of the mizzen boom, 
Al decided not to go ashore for a required suit 
of oilers, and collectively we put in the day rig- 
ging a new spar. Staging a foraging expedi- 

29 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

tion to the Marine Basin, where Chambers and I 
had mowed down countless hand-rail stanchions 
in the early days of the war, we met a person in 
authority who directed us to the broken radio 
mast of a sub-chaser and told us to take it when 
he was n't looking. Useless for its intended pur- 
pose, this stick of knotless Oregon pine was ideal 
for us, and with Andy wielding the draw-knife 
and plane while we looked on and marveled, we 
soon had a new boom that beats perfection it- 
self. Then we rigged and shipped it, and at 
five of a wintry afternoon called it a day. 

Monday morning, the second of May, offered 
every inducement for an early start, but sleep 
got the better of us, and it was seven o'clock be- 
fore we cast off from the dock of the hospitable 
Anderson and stood down the bay under sail and 
power. Arrived in Ambrose Channel we shut 
off the motor, and cutting across to Gedney 
Channel, the northwest wind died a lingering 
death and we slatted about in the swell from the 
preceding day's blow. Whereupon the com- 
panionway ladder was again moved aside to give 
access to the little ten H. P. mill, and we chugged 

30 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

off for Scotland Light- vessel to take our depart- 
ure for the long journey. 

The wind remaining virtually dormant, we 
motored down the Jersey coast for a matter of 
three hours with the jib and jigger just filling, 
and then a gentle southerly breeze sprang up 
and we hoisted the mainsail and shut off the 
power. Alternately reaching in toward the 
coast and beating out to sea, we tacked about all 
the afternoon, evening, and night, and in the 
morning, with Barnegat Light slightly abaft the 
beam, had made less than fifty miles for the day's 
run. But Squibb and I had acquired a little ex- 
perience in handling the ship under sail, and 
Chambers was not dissatisfied with our progress. 

Day dawned clear, but the sky was almost im- 
mediately overcast with a thin pall of clouds that 
boded no good for the next twenty-four hours' 
run. Then, although the wind hauled gradually 
to eastward, the clouds burned off and we doffed 
a few sweaters and prepared to enjoy life on the 
ocean wave. 

The little patent log which followed Typhoon 
on Bill Nutting's care-free excursion to the 

31 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

Cowes Regatta, and which had been lent us for 
our coastal voyage, settled down to business and 
clocked us off at five knots, thereby establishing 
the first part of our prediction that Hippo is 
slow but sure. Atlantic City, Ocean City, and 
a few more of the Jersey coast resorts were 
gradually brought abeam and receded to the 
most attractive bearing — that of the starboard 
quarter — and at sundown we were abreast of 
Hereford Inlet Light, about four miles to lee- 
ward of us. 

That sunset is the one of all others that I '11 
always remember. Having nothing about it to 
delight the eye of a Turner, it was calculated 
solely to trouble the mind of a navigator. At 
that, it was a sunset only by conventional appli- 
cation of the word, since the sun never showed his 
face after he had sunk below an angle of twenty 
degrees. But he cast an abortive rainbow in the 
eastern sky, and tinged the clouds to a dull bluish 
hue that reminded me of all the sea storms I Ve 
ever read about. Nimbus clouds scudded across 
the sky in two directions and rolled themselves 
into mares' tails, and slowly the wind swung more 

32 




With her mainsail loosely furled, the Hippo motored down the 
coast, waiting for another slant 




Squibb, commissary and Sea-Going Gadget, measures his length 
along the boom while under way 




Viewed from any standpoint that you choose, the Hippocampus 
is a trim, able little vessel 



iSX 





Loomis, in the dress uniform of tropical cruising, bags big celes- 
tial game with the sextant 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

into the northeast quadrant and gained in vigor. 

Just before dark we headed into it and doused 
the mainsail. Then, thanks to Chambers's fore- 
sight, we used the ends of the backstay sheets, 
the main-sheet, and a stray line or so to quad- 
ruple-lash the boom; and he generally saw to it 
that everything was snugged down for the night. 

For one sufficient reason or another I made 
no contemporaneous entries in the ship's log, but 
it was somewhere around nine o'clock when we 
sighted McCries Shoal lighted buoy off Cape 
May and laid a southwesterly course for it. The 
breeze was then blowing about five in the Beau- 
fort scale, and the wherry, towing at the end of a 
two-and-a-half inch painter, was -having a merry 
time. Alternately it sagged back on the line 
and charged down on us from the peak of a 
wave, and when it had once missed our counter by 
inches we lengthened its scope to forty feet to 
avoid a rear-end collision. At 10 :05 we brought 
our buoy abeam and headed away on a south by 
east course for Fenwick Island Shoals Light-ves- 
sel, and somewhere between that moment and the 
next Chambers called down the hatch that the 

33 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

wherry had gone adrift. Even at that early 
hour the blackness of the night and the condition 
of the sea were such that search for it was use- 
less. Things were getting pretty thick. 

Although we had already shaped our course 
for the light-vessel I had remained below study- 
ing the entrance to Delaware Breakwater Har- 
bor, and concluding that with an ebb tide and 
half a gale I did n't like the looks of it. The loss 
of the tender now decided me that the night 
called for plenty of sea-room, and with Al's and 
Paul's concurrence we continued on our way. I 
may be hopelessly wrong in my opinion, but I 
believe that the difference between riding out a 
storm and scurrying for a strange harbor in the 
dead of night is just this: When you're get- 
ting a severe drubbing off soundings the worst 
has yet to happen; but when you miss the en- 
trance to a harbor and find yourself in the 
breakers your cup of misfortune is full and run- 
ning over. 

So, taking the wind and water heavily from 
a little abaft the port beam, we held our course 
for the light-vessel, twenty-five miles distant. 

34 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

The wind came without gusts but with an ever- 
increasing strength, and by 11 :30 I mentally put 
it down for seven in the Beaufort scale. Then, 
as the half -hours dragged by, I raised the ante 
one by one, and at the height of the storm figured 
that we were receiving all that a sixty-five-mile 
blow had to offer us. But the ship was taking it 
gamely — and traveling. When you log off 
seven knots under jib and jigger, displaying 
but little more than a third of your total sail 
area, you may say that the wind is blowing and 
that you are taking full advantage of it. 

So we traveled until the tiller trembled under 
the rush of water past the rudder and the boom 
vibrated from the transmitted strain of the wind 
in the j ib. And we dipped our lee rail under and 
took solid water alternately over bow and port 
quarter until the cockpit scuppers failed to carry 
off the accumulated inflow of water, and the 
light of the binnacle, wedged in a corner of the 
cockpit, was extinguished. But always we felt 
confidence in the ability of the Hippocampus 
to stand up under her punishment. 

Not always did we have this feeling of con- 

35 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

fidence in ourselves, and when, two hours before 
we were supposed to pick up Fenwick Light- 
vessel, we saw a gleam on our starboard bow, 
we momentarily thought that we had erred in the 
course. The unwelcome light showed itself 
when we were crossing the southern end of Five 
Fathom Bank and the rollers were breaking over 
themselves until the whole sea was a smother 
of phosphorescence, and for a time we thought 
ourselves to be in the breakers. At this juncture 
we started the Palmer, which, despite greasy fly- 
wheel and dampened spark-plugs, kicked off with 
accustomed celerity, and let it idle until we had 
again become sure of our position. 

This assurance was given us by indirection 
when a green starboard light showed flanking 
the white light and we made it out to be a tug 
bound for the Delaware River with but one range 
light burning. So incessant and violent was our 
motion that the approaching light had the fixity 
of a shore beacon. 

Our own running lights had long since given 
up the ghost, and we had made no attempt to 
keep them burning. The height of the evening's 

36 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

performance came when Chambers, going below 
for a smoke, was followed down the companion- 
way by the fringe of a comber which extinguished 
the acetylene gas light. Both before and after 
that happening the binnacle-light puffed out, and 
continually, until dawn, spray slopped down the 
half-open hatchway until the bilge and cabin 
deck were an agitated pool of turbid water. 
Squibb, wedging himself in place on a pile 
of saturated cushions and remaining below 
because we were minus a suit of oilers and the 
need for Chambers on deck was great, established 
for himself the reputation of sea-going sailor. 
To Chambers belongs the credit of pulling us 
through a nasty situation, and to Squibb the 
storm-proof stomach. Mine is equal to any 
emergency on deck, but it does have its limits, 
and I kept the top-side. 

At a little before two we sighted Fenwick 
Light-ship dead ahead and felt a load lift itself 
from our shoulders. The wind still blew hard, 
being now accompanied by ominous periods of 
calm, and the spray still drove through our oilers, 
but we knew that upon sticking it out for only 

37 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

one hour more, we could head off on a south-by- 
west course and take the sea at a better angle. 
At 2:50, our leeway carrying us down so that 
we were unable to round the light-ship, we 
brought it abeam on the port hand and squared 
away on the new course. In a lull a few minutes 
later the little ship lost steerageway and jibed on 
the reopening of hostilities. Having the tiller 
at the time, I thought that I had committed a 
nautical fauoo pas which would be fatal; but the 
spars, sails, and rigging stood the strain, and 
the doughty sailing-master of our crew brought 
her about on the proper tack without difficulty. 
From then on until dawn the wind continued 
stiff, but at sunrise it slacked off in strength and 
by 8 a. m. we were tumbling about in what would 
have been a flat calm if by any stretch of the im- 
agination the mountainous waves could be termed 
flat. At any rate, there was not enough air to 
keep the sails filled as we rolled, and again the 
motor was started. Squib had taken the morn- 
ing watch while Chambers and I indulged our 
passion for sleep, and so ably did he heed my 

38 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

injunction not to make anything to westward of 
the course that at eight bells when I came on 
deck we were twenty miles from anywhere. 

Laying a course in the general direction of 
North America we presently picked up Winter 
Quarter Shoal buoy and there altered to make 
the bell marking the southern end of Black Fish 
iBank. Meanwhile, Assateague Light had 
showed above the horizon and we welcomed the 
thought of hot chow and rest in the anchorage 
at its base. Still under power, but with a repe- 
tition of the preceding day's easterly springing 
up to fill the jib and jigger, we kept on our way 
until at 1:10 in the afternoon of Wednesday 
we lowered sail at the entrance to the anchorage. 

From there it was a run of a few minutes to 
a quiet mooring at the new plant of the Chin- 
coteague Fish Oils Co., where we secured and 
received a cordial greeting from the manager. 
Eriksen is a sea-going Swede of varied experi- 
ence, who, having heard bur story, corroborated 
our modest claim of a sixty-five-mile breeze, and 
said, "You boys ban salty. I knew it when I 

39 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

saw you picking your way in between the shoals. 
And your boat ban salty too." When Eriksen 
said this we felt that it was praise indeed. 

That night we lay in, and the southeast wind 
only vaguely disturbed our slumbers. Nor were 
we bothered the next night when another north- 
easter, accompanying a mendaciously rising 
glass, swept across the anchorage and bobbed 
first our bowsprit and then our bumpkin under. 
Friday the sea still tumbled about outside and 
roared on the beach of Assateague, and the sky 
remained troubled; and on Saturday, when con- 
ditions for sailing seemed ideal, the mouth of the 
wind-bag closed and not enough air stirred to 
flutter our S. C. pennant at the main. 

But Sunday morning a fine sailing breeze from 
the northwest greeted us as we rolled out of our 
bunks, and with a great stir of activity we bolted 
one of Squibb's hasty breakfasts, singled our 
lines, started the motor, cast off, and headed for 
sea. If other amateur mariners put in to Assa- 
teague anchorage and are accorded half the cor- 
diality that we received from all hands at the 
fish plant they will look back on the sojourn 

40 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

there as a most pleasant one. We occupied our 
time between showers airing bedding and clothes 
(my clean whites, having been on the lee side 
in the storm, will never be the same again) and 
in turning sheets and halyards to lengthen the 
life of them. 

Rounding Fishing Point and taking our de- 
parture from the red and black spar marking a 
two-fathom spot at the entrance, we set all sail, 
shut off the power, and ran free under the im- 
pulse of a fine sailing breeze. Looking back, 
we saw how inaccurate is the lighted range sup- 
posed to mark the best water into the anchorage, 
and I made a note in the log to warn seafarers 
entering at night to give a wide berth to the light 
on the point. The spit has gradually crept 
northward until the light which formerly marked 
the best water now lures the stranger into an 
overland expedition. 

All that day we had perfect conditions for 
sailing, the sea being smooth with an offshore 
wind, and I employed the morning brushing up 
on my navigation. Working two St. Hilaire 
sights from my Brandis sextant and catching the 

41 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

sun on the meridian at noon, I was able to 
check the accuracy of the instrument by objects 
on shore. It checked. By sundown, when we 
were bringing Cape Charles abeam, we had 
logged fifty miles and were all set for a quick 
run up to the Elizabeth River and a full day 
ashore in Norfolk. But the wind passed quietly 
out and in the succeeding twelve hours we made 
good less than twenty miles. 

Then, Monday morning, having breakfasted 
and put the ship in harbor trim — a process in- 
volving the stowal of wet shoes, trousers, shirts, 
and miscellany— we started the motor and pro- 
ceded to a quiet mooring in the Hague. During 
our short stay here automobilists, easing along 
Mowbray Arch, have exclaimed, "Oh, there she 
is," and pedestrians have done us the honor of 
coming abroad to inspect. As I started to write 
this, a big navy plane, which had flown from 
New York in about the time it took us to cover 
the last ten miles under power, flew overhead and 
one of her observers leaned over the side to sema- 
phore "Good luck" to us. 

We have been dined (and I almost said wined) 

42 



HIPPO SEES IT THROUGH 

by the most hospitable strangers, and now, be- 
ing freshly provisioned and fueled, we are pre- 
paring to get under way for Charleston, with pos- 
sible stops for breath at Beaufort, Southport, or 
wherever we catch the next drubbing from 
Father Neptune. The little hooker will stand 
it. 



43 



Ill 

HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS OF RAIN 

ONE of the most sea-going authors of the 
present day has written recently of the 
poetry of the night, the soft swish of the waves 
on the ship's bow, the occasional dash of spray 
(like nectar on the lips), and of how all these 
concomitants of a lazy mid- watch put one in tune 
with the universe. Brandishing aloft this emi- 
nent authority's story, I asked my valiant crew 
what they thought of during the graveyard 
watch. Subjoined are two veracious statements : 

Statement of "Joe" Squibb, ecc-Artilleryman 

"When I have the trick at the observation post 
and you fellows are sleeping in your funk-hole, 
I wonder what makes the flying fish fly. That 
starts me to speculating on how a swarm of 
house-flies can overtake a ship two days or fif- 
teen miles from port. In such cogitation I feel 
loath to call my relief, even after I have stood 

44 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

the middle and part of the morning watches and 
have refilled all the lamps and mopped up the 
floor before getting breakfast." 

Statement of "Joe" Chambers, eoc-Chaserman 

"When I have the deck all the pleasant images 
of a well-spent life pass in review before my 
closed eyes. I cork off peacefully, while Marble- 
head, Bensonhurst, Ponta Delgada, Santa Dom- 
ingo, and the malaria ward at the Key West hos- 
pital fight for my comatose attention. But when 
the stormy petrels start twittering around the log- 
line I snap out of it, put on my oilers, lash the 
barometer to keep it from falling any lower, and 
prepare for a wicked night. In all the years 
that I have been in service I have never yet stood 
a lazy mid-watch." 

As for me, I marvel not at the immensity of 
the universe and all the little stars buzzing dizzily 
across the firmament, but dally my thought with 
the slothfulness of time. At 12:05 I look at 
my wrist chronometer and find that I have two 
hours and fifty-five minutes to stand before call- 
ing Joe to tell him that it is raining violently and 

45 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

blowing a gale from the northeast. At 12:10 
I find that I still have two hours and fifty min- 
utes to go; and so on. And my subconscious 
mind continually asks me why I elected to do 
this sort of thing in preference to sleeping com- 
fortably at home in a bed. So the watch pro- 
ceeds. 

But the mention of the stormy petrels in 
Chambers' statement has reminded him of a 
story which must be repeated here before the 
answer to my subconscious questioning is woven 
into the log of the Hippocampus. Al is an im- 
aginative raconteur, and if ever we lie becalmed 
for a month one chapter at least of Hippo's 
cruise will be devoted to his probable stories. 
The one about the stormy petrels takes us back to 
the bold, bad days of the Eleventh Squadron of 
sub-chasers, which saved New York from the 
German submarines. 

He had just been commissioned and assigned 
to command S. C. 63. As he stepped aboard 
preparatory to accompanying a fourteen-knot 
convoy to sea, his eye fell on the wilted, weazened 
form of a warrant boatswain who had spent 

46 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

the last forty years of his naval life on shore sta- 
tion. The warrant piped up in a quavery treble : 
"I have been ordered to accompany you on this 
convoy to make you sea-going. You will remain 
in command, but I will stand by to give you the 
benefit of my experience. You may shove off." 

So they shoved, and before long the chaser had 
cleared Ambrose and was out on the billowing 
Atlantic. And before long the warrant was in 
possession of the skipper's bunk, much troubled 
in mind and stomach. Throughout a long and 
stormy night the chaser stuck with the convoy, 
and Chambers kept the deck, and in the morning 
reversed his course and stood back to New York. 
Then he went below and awakened the warrant 
from a fitful slumber. 

With palsied hands that experienced sea-dog 
raised his face to a port-light, looked through it at 
the tumbling waste of waters, and cried in a 
piteous falsetto, "My God, we 're at sea — we 're 
at sea!' Then, catching sight of a covey of 
stormy petrels, he turned his woebegone face to 
Chambers and added, "And them birds ain't fol- 
lowing us to no good purpose." 

47 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

So it has been with Mother Carey's Chickens 
since the outset of the Hippocampus' s expedition. 
They Ve followed us to no good purpose and 
they have brought enough foul weather to estab- 
lish the name and fame of any young Joe Con- 
rad whose astral form happens to hover over us. 
We can promise him more of the same with an 
occasional calm thrown in to vary the monotony. 

Before leaving Norfolk on May 12 I inter- 
viewed the weather bureau— my first and only 
crime of that nature — and learned that an omi- 
nous low was developing over the Middle West 
and that fresh to strong southeast winds might 
be expected for several days. So I returned 
aboard and put the matter up to the crew. We 
might go inside Hatteras, burn a lot of gas, 
travel only by day, and go aground in Pamlico 
Sound, or we might run outside and take what 
the weather bureau thought it had promised us. 

Hence we chose the lesser of two evils and that 
afternoon dropped down to Lynnhaven Roads, 
there to anchor in quiet water in the lee of Cape 
Henry. We figured that if the wind did blow 
from the southeast we would have a snug berth, 

48 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

and if it blew from another quarter we could 
up anchor and away. Friday the thirteenth 
dawned fair with just a suggestion of a south- 
east slant, and, after stowing a breakfast where 
it would do the most good, we stood out between 
the Virginia capes, dipping our colors to an over- 
taking T-boat. Our first tack carried us past 
the sea buoy, ten miles to eastward, and put two 
fishing-schooners behind us, and the next reached 
us down the coast, a matter of five miles and 
within two miles of the beach before we again 
put about and headed for sea. 

So, fighting a contrary slant of wind, we spent 
the day, and by nightfall had picked up Curri- 
tuck Light and made good less than twenty 
miles. With the change of watch shortly after 
midnight came a squall of wind and the only ex- 
citement of the run to Beaufort. In lowering 
the mainsail to meet the squall, the mast hoops, 
which had become elongated through much use, 
stuck, and we consumed exactly as many mo- 
ments in stays as were needed to carry the foot 
of the jib away from the boom lacing. It then 
became my pleasant diversion to divest myself 

49 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

of oilers, pea-coat, and other essentials of a 
cruise in the tropics, and lay myself along the 
bowsprit. Thanks to the jib downhaul which Al 
had rigged two days before, the torn jib came 
down easily and it was a matter of only half an 
hour, working by the sense of touch, to unbend 
the old sail and bend on our storm jib. Inas- 
much as the sea-water was warmer than the air 
I have taken worse duckings than the little 
Hippo gave me as her "sky- jabbing bowsprit" 
reversed the motion and immersed itself and me. 
Under her shortened suit of sails the Hippo- 
campus proved unwilling to come about when, 
with the storm jib filling, we tested it out. But 
we thanked whatever prudence we possessed that 
had put us fifteen miles from the lee shore be- 
fore the squall struck ; and being then on the port 
tack, headed back to Virginia. Paul, on the 
three-by-six watch, reported violent showers of 
rain with little wind, and at six o'clock it was 
unanimously voted to start the motor and ease 
the motion of the craft. The Palmer voted Aye 
along with the rest of us, kicking off merrily after 
a spasm or two, but the go-ahead position of the 

50 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

reverse registered a No, and it was eight o'clock 
before we had achieved an adjustment that would 
not slip when the propeller, after a short run up 
the back of a wave for a breath of air, returned 
to deep water. 

An hour later we sighted Currituck on our 
beam and learned that twelve hours of tossing 
about had netted us less than five miles of south- 
ing. Finding that the jib and jigger remained 
filled with the motor working we raised the main- 
sail, but it wasn't many minutes before the 
southeast wind gave the lie to the weather bureau 
and puffed out, never to revive sufficiently to 
give us steerageway until we had rounded Hat- 
teras and Lookout and were finally anchored 
securely off the entrance to Beaufort Harbor, 
North Carolina. 

All day of Saturday the fourteenth we 
plugged along under power, being convoyed by 
a school of seventy-five to one hundred porpoises, 
and at nightfall when we picked up Wimble 
Shoals buoy the sea was calm and Hatteras had 
lost its power to alarm us. That night we re- 
corded in the log the most vivid display of nor- 

51 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

thern lights that we had ever seen, and concluded 
that Old Man Hatteras, being temporarily out 
of breath, was doing what he could to make our 
passage interesting. Yet we mentally noted that 
sentence in the "Coast Pilot" which relates that 
"two or three wrecks may usually be seen on the 
outer shoals." 

Paul, standing his usual rainy watch, brought 
Diamond Shoals Light-vessel abeam just before 
daylight, and we squared away for Cape Look- 
out. The Sabbath was an uneventful repetition 
of Saturday, except that in midafternoon, desir- 
ing to test the action of the boat under jib and 
jigger alone, we declutched and spent the next 
two hours in the bilge gazing blasphemously into 
the innards of the reverse gear. 

Eventually it took hold again in the go-ahead 
(and in justice to it it has given us no trouble 
since) , but the time lost reduced to nothing our 
margin of daylight which we had hoped would 
take us through the inner channel of Cape Look- 
out Shoals; so with darkness and the customary 
heavy rain we shaped a course for the southern 
tip of the shoals and prepared for another night 

52 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

of it. By this time the apple-pies of Mrs. 
Frederick Lewis of Norfolk (a stranger on our 
arrival there, but a most hospitable hostess before 
our departure) had gone the way of all trans- 
cendently delicious pastry, and we were anxious 
to make port and surround a chow cooked under 
favorable circumstances. But Old Man Hat- 
teras, to whom we had thumbed an impudent 
nose, had n't finished with us. 

He sent dizzy showers of rain which obscured 
Cape Lookout Light and sent us on a long de- 
tour around the shoals for safety's sake, and at 
12 :30 of the morning of May 16, as we picked up 
the lighted buoy at Beaufort entrance, he drained 
the last drop of gasolene from our starboard 
tank and brought us up short. Knowing that 
there was less than a gallon left in the port tank 
we nonchalantly let go the hook in eight fathoms 
of water, extinguished running lights and lighted 
the rider, and turned in for some much needed 
shut-eye. 

Lest we be criticized for anchoring in the open 
ocean let me explain that it is my first offense 
and that the action was justified. The sea was 

53 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

flat and calm with not enough air to flutter the 
match which lit the riding light. Before turning 
in we spliced the main brace, drinking to a favor- 
able slant of wind with the coming of daylight, 
and Squibb, who had had the watch below from 
eight o'clock on, slept with one ear open. 

At 5 :30 he awakened us with the pleasing news 
that a breath of air was stirring from the south- 
east, and, getting under way with all sail set, 
we made for Beaufort Inlet. Following the 
buoys, but with the sounding lead in play, and 
with AFs cunning hand on the tiller, we passed 
between the breakers and thanked the little god 
of gasolenedom that our starboard tank had 
drained when it did and not three miles later in 
our voyage into turbulent waters. Then, buck- 
ing an ebb tide and screening the chart from the 
matutinal downpour of rain, we rounded the bell, 
and stood up the harbor. 

But the wind, wearied of its well-doing, left us, 
and when less than a mile from the wharves we 
started the motor on what there was left in the 
port tank. It carried us to within four hundred 

54 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

yards of the gasolene dock and there the last drop 
followed the preceding sixty gallons out of the 
exhaust-pipe, and we came to anchor. Undis- 
mayed, we squeezed another carbureterful from 
the starboard tank, emptied the priming can, and 
were experimenting with kerosene and rain- 
water when a kindly gentleman of the African 
persuasion towed us to the wharf for value re- 
ceived. Having tanked up we dropped around 
a point to another wharf where we secured for 
a feed and a rest. 

Let us here leave the Hippo for a moment, her 
hatches battened against an all-day shower of 
rain, and get a more intimate slant at her per- 
sonnel and organization. As previously implied, 
we have Al Chambers, sailing-master and narra- 
tor extraordinary, and Paul Squibb, who, since 
his initiation in the famous battle of Fenwick 
Light-ship, has developed into the most ocean- 
going gadget that ever trod a deck. He found 
it inexpedient to say Al Chambers or Al Loomis 
when calling the respective hands to chow, and so 
calls us both Joe. Naturally enough, we call 

55 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

him Joe, and there is now a complete unanimity 
of nomenclature aboard the yawl. Mistakes are 
impossible and profanity is useless. 

Under way, Chambers usually has the first 
watch from port while the skipper lies below and 
gets used to the motion of the craft, and Squibb 
wrestles with a meal. After that the dishes wash 
themselves in the rain, and the skipper takes a 
trick at the stick while the crew cork in antici- 
pation of a stormy night at sea. Once darkness 
has fallen out of a villainous sunset the watches 
come with some regularity, and we have found 
that three hours on deck is about all that a man 
can encompass with ease. 

The day after leaving port, when the seas are 
running high, two meals are thought sufficient 
to keep soul and body together, but with the mid- 
afternoon calm our spirits revive and there is a 
surprising amount of rifle-fire at tethered targets, 
and diving off the bowsprit to pick up a line 
trailing astern and give the sharks a run for their 
money. Harpooning porpoises with a blunt 
boat-hook and working Marq St. Hilaire sights 
with a blunt cerebrum are other sports until the 

56 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

conventional thunderstorm of eventide comes 
along and we start looking for a light-ship that is 
supposed to be somewhere along our course. 
Although we always steer courses from light- 
ship to light-ship it has chanced that since leaving 
Scotland Light-ship at the entrance to New 
York Harbor we have never sighted one by day. 
Always their cheery lamps wink at us between 
the hours of 8 p. m. and 4 a. m. 

Night follows day and day succeeds night with 
the allotted amount of rain and adverse wind, and 
eventually we reach port, where, after drying 
sails, bunting, and bedding, we make merry with 
the inhabitants. It's a gay life if you happen to 
like it — as we all do. 

But at Beaufort there is little jollity among 
the natives, and we employed our second day 
there rigging a makeshift boom for our spare 
jib, and renewing the hoops of the mainmast. 
Readers who had the temerity to glance over the 
first chapter of this yarn will remember that the 
possibility of having to renew the hoops by un- 
stepping the mast caused me no little worriment. 
Imagine my surprise and delight to find that this 

57 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

was unnecessary, and that wooden hoops, when 
placed in the chowder kettle, become flexible 
and may easily be warped around the mast and 
their ends riveted together. I should warn other 
novices, however, not to cook chowder and steam 
hoops at the same time. 

There was a severe norther blowing in Beau- 
fort the second day of our stop there, the colors 
of the marine biological laboratory flying straight 
out in the wind, and on the advice of a local 
prophet we delayed our departure long enough 
to bust into a worse northeaster. On Wednes- 
day, May 18, we got under way bright and early 
after having emptied the cylinders of a quantity 
of salt water that had backed up from the muffler, 
and at 10 : 30 cleared the entrance buoy, shut off 
the motor, and set all sail for a run to Frying Pan 
Shoals Light-vessel, off Cape Fear. 

The wind was fair (our first extended expe- 
rience in sailing free) and by 7 p. m. we had 
logged fifty miles. In mid-afternoon a falling 
barometer and freshening breeze indicated that 
we would probably have a night of it, but as long 
as daylight lasted we kept all sail set and for a 

58 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

time logged eight nautical miles an hour. At 
first we ran with the mainsail and mizzen wing 
and wing (the jib not filling on this point of sail- 
ing), but, with a following sea picking up, the 
mizzen showed an increasing propensity for jib- 
ing and on a S. W. y% S. course with a northeast 
wind we made it an out-and-out starboard tack 
and did better. 

At 7 p. m.^ the wind strengthening, we pre- 
pared to shorten sail, and at this moment a larger 
wave than its fellows spilled the air from the 
mainsail and its running-mate heaved the boom. 
Thus it jibed while ten feet above our heads and 
luckily caught in the belly of the sail on a short- 
lived port tack. Chambers headed her into it 
immediately and we doused the mainsail, the new 
hoops working perfectly, thereupon to find that 
we could not carry our new jib with its cumber- 
some jury-boom. So we had to resort again to 
the storm jib. 

With this bandana handkerchief set, it was a 
question of sailing a course that the ship would 
steer, and this proved to be south-southwest, 
which, luckily enough, would carry us past the 

59 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

lighted buoy on the outer extremity of Frying 
Pan Shoals, about twenty-eight miles from Cape 
Fear. Being then prepared for heavy weather, 
we asked Boreas to let her flicker, and he did, giv- 
ing us in twenty-four hours our best day's run of 
140 miles. Meanwhile the wind continued to in- 
crease in force, and at 2 :40 a. m., when my eyes 
were gladdened by the sight of the lighted buoy 
abeam, we were logging seven knots under storm 
jib and jigger alone. In shoal water this night 
would have ranked with our hair-raising experi- 
ence off the Delaware Capes, but with fifteen or 
twenty fathoms beneath her, the Hippocampus 
rode the seas with the buoyancy of a tin duck in a 
bath-tub. Yet it was not a night for tempting 
the fates, and as we could only lay a course for 
Charleston Light- vessel by jibing the mizzen, I 
let her continue on her south-southwest course 
when at daylight I was relieved and took my 
watch below. 

Late in the morning watch the wind moderated 
and Chambers and Squibb jibed her over to the 
starboard tack on a course which, if continued, 
would have carried us to the light-ship. The 

60 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

wind spent the morning marshaling up a flock 
of wicked-looking nimbus clouds and employed 
itself during the early part of the afternoon par- 
ading them across the heavens from north to 
south and from south to north, and emptying 
them upon us with each passing. It seemed as if 
Capes Hatteras, Lookout, and Fear were deter- 
mined to punish us for passing them so easily, 
and the stormy petrels had a particularly sinister 
aspect as they picked imaginary crumbs from the 
water and sported with the waves. 

Yet at 3 p. m., in the middle of the most 
breath-taking downpour of the day, the wind 
died completely and for two hours while the sun 
battled with the clouds for supremacy we slatted 
in a dead calm, the mizzen-boom playing its anvil 
chorus until our nerves cried for peace and quiet. 
Then a slant of wind of equal strength hit us 
from the southeast and for two hours more 
bowled us along our westerly way. The Gulf 
Stream had set us during the day, and at mid- 
night we were not greatly surprised when on a 
dying breeze we sighted Cape Romain at some 
distance on our starboard bow. 

61 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

Again the wind breathed out, and for the fol- 
lowing twelve hours we made nothing but lee- 
way and showed a hypothetical gain on the pat- 
ent log of five and a half miles. It then became 
time to start the motor to reach Charleston be- 
fore dark, and I made my first heinous naviga- 
tional error. I mention it as a warning to others, 
because, although no one else has ever done it, it 
might easily be repeated by the careless. I ap- 
plied a point of deviation the wrong way. 

Consequently, when we had overrun our dis- 
tance from Cape Romain to Charleston Light- 
vessel, there was no vessel nor any land in sight ; 
and we bore up to westward looking for land- 
marks. Presently the keen eyes of the exec 
sighted Charleston Lighthouse, a match-stick 
standing upright on the horizon, and we laid a 
northwesterly course for it, having erred in our 
landfall by a matter of ten miles. Naturally 
enough, I was deeply chagrined and promised 
the crew to set up the first round when we come 
to the countries where the setting is good. Thus 
mutiny was prevented and we squared away for 
the jetties with easy consciences. 

62 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

Upon Charleston we turn our backward 
glances with particularly tender memories. Ar- 
riving at the Carolina Yacht Club in the moon- 
light we were assigned a berth alongside the 
dock, and by no less than a dozen members were 
cordially extended the hospitality of the club, 
which included hot showers, shore food, and all 
kinds of elbow-room for writing letters. At 
Charleston, too, we learned that the Haig twins 
still fly their five-starred flag in the face of the 
enemy; and we took them into camp and were 
glad. 

The first day in port was devoted to drying 
everything which had become wet — which was 
everything aboard ship. And on the following 
day we painted the deck-house and varnished 
the hatches. But that afternoon we accepted the 
hospitality of Charles C. West, a member of the 
club, and with his two friends, Middleton and 
Dexter, took the road to Folly Beach with alarm- 
ing alacrity. On the hard sand of the beach, 
avoiding the waves of an oncoming tide, we 
watched the laggard hand of the speedometer 
work up to forty-five and knew that it undertold 

63 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

the truth by twenty miles. Then we swam, re- 
turned to the club for food, and called it a ban- 
ner day. 

The next was somewhat like it, being a judi- 
cious mixture of work and play, and including ac- 
ceptance of the kind invitation of Squibb's friend 
Lieutenant Berwick Lanier to lunch with him 
aboard his destroyer Biddle. There on a tour 
of inspection Chambers was amazed to see on the 
fantail the identical Y-gun which had equipped 
his S. C. 63 during the war. With great re- 
straint no one remarked on the smallness of the 
world. In the evening we made poor shift to 
return the hospitality of Mr. West, and on the 
evening following Lieutenant Lanier paid us 
the honor of sharing our vesperal corn fritters. 
Over the cigarettes there was much anecdote of 
the navy in general and of the esteemed Captain 
"Juggy" Nelson in particular. He it was who 
won the war for the allies with the Adriatic de- 
tachment of sub-chasers, and we regretted keenly 
the orders which had despatched him and the 
U.S.S. Leonidas (with all speed possible) to New 
York ten days before our arrival in Charleston. 

64 







o 

CO 






a; 
bJD 




^ 
d 









•■a 

^2 



T3 

a* 
co 







Photographed from a sea buoy, the Hippo seemed indeed the 
smallest ship that has ever sailed to Colon 




At Jacksonville Chambers varnished the mizzen, unaffected by 
the splendor of the new lift bridge 



HEAD WIND AND SHOWERS 

The next day, May 25, having finished our 
ship's work, we lashed everything down and 
headed to sea, laden with much booty from the 
post and express offices. We have not yet 
caught up with an eight-foot dink which the 
Skaneateles people have expressed to Jackson- 
ville with their compliments, intending thereby 
to assuage our grief at losing our wherry in the 
storm of May 3. When we do we shall shun 
line-breaking, paint-marring docks, and anchor 
at will. Then our happiness will be complete. 



65 



IV 

MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

IF a cruise in a yawl were all plain sailing there 
would be little to chronicle but the state of the 
sea and the color of the clouds at sunrise. Run- 
ning free before a breeze which obligingly shifted 
with the outline of the coast, she would diminish 
her latitude like a coastwise steamer, her log so 
barren of entry that her skipper would have to 
draw on his imagination for publishable material. 

Luckily, the Fates have provided that in the 
Odyssey of the Hippocampus there shall be no 
mention of halcyon days, hardly any record of 
fair winds, and almost a superfluity of unortho- 
dox adventures. Yet, after a month of cruising, 
no fatal accident has befallen. In a retrospect 
of what did occur on a night at Mayport, Florida, 
this seems a shade unusual. 

Much more in accordance with our expecta- 
tion was the contrary slant of wind which greeted 

66 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

us, as, ten days in advance of the cataclysmic 
occurrence hereinafter to be described, we nosed 
our way between the jetties at Charleston and 
set sail for a run to Savannah. Between en- 
trances it is a distance that Gar Junior or an- 
other of the moderns would do in two hours, and 
the weather was of the sort that would delight 
the paddler of a thirteen-foot canoe. But the 
Hippo, indifferent to meteorological conditions, 
pointed her bowsprit as close as she could to a 
vagrant breath from the southwest, and in two 
hours was still visible from the entrance buoys. 
Twelve hours later, half a day of calms, spas- 
modic breezes, and rolled-up banks of cumulus 
that merely threatened sudden squalls of wind, 
we dropped the eighteen-mile beam of Charleston 
Light and called it our day of least accomplish- 
ment. Midnight found us totally becalmed, with 
the range lights of an approaching-steamer bear- 
ing directly down on us. A well-directed flash 
of our portable search-light called his attention 
to us, and we had the satisfaction of seeing him 
alter course to pass around us. 

Until mid-afternoon of the next day, May 27, 

67 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

we fared but little better in point of mileage. 
Sights taken in the morning and at noon with 
the Brandis sextant gave me a fix that was ten 
miles northeastward of our dead reckoning posi- 
tion, and I gained a new idea of the leeway which 
a small boat will make tacking against light airs. 
We were becoming almost reconciled to picking 
up Charleston Light-vessel astern of us when at 
3 :45 a moderate breeze sprang up from the north- 
east and we squared away for Martin's Industry 
Light-vessel. We picked it up at dusk, our 
usual hour for making such landfalls, and, the 
wind becoming gusty, shortened sail and scudded 
for Tybee lighted buoy, at the entrance to the 
Savannah River. Showers of rain came with 
the wind and blasted our hopes of completing 
a run between ports without donning oilers. 

At midnight, when we started the motor and 
picked up the first range of Tybee Roads, I em- 
barked upon an experience that was as new as it 
was interesting; that of entering a strange har- 
bor without adequate charts. In New York, 
when I made up my portfolio, Savannah was so 
far away that a difference in date of ten years 

68 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

did not seem vital, and I included a few charts 
that had been used on a previous cruise. But 
when we were in the roads and I saw that almost 
every range and other navigational light in the 
vicinity had been changed within the decade I re- 
garded the matter differently. However, I took 
my data from the "Light List," and, cheered if 
not exactly aided by a moon which shone through 
the clouds and illuminated port-hand buoys on 
our quarter, the little Hippo worked up above 
Quarantine and came to anchor to await a fair 
tide. 

The turn came at 8 a. m., and under the heat of 
a sultry sun we started up the Savannah River, 
experiencing for the first time the sensation of 
stepping on red-hot decks with bare feet. The 
motor kicked us along busily to within three miles 
of Savannah, where we turned and followed the 
inside route to Thunderbolt, since, as every one 
knows who has cruised south, Savannah is to be 
shunned as a city of water-front smells and high 
docks. 

But this Georgian city is also a place of de- 
lightful hospitality and delicious "rebel" tend- 

69 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

encies, and we were the pampered guests of men 
who had served in our late difficulty with Ger- 
many as well as of those who had fought in "the 
War." Squibb chased the ball around a links 
whose bunkers are fashioned from Civil War 
breastworks, and at one home we were invited to 
inspect round shot fired from Federal guns which 
had rusted in the soil for fifty years after they 
had missed their objective. At a dinner party 
— and this once more reminded us of the bad old 
days — we made the acquaintance of Mr. Tom 
Collins, and, listening to the clink of ice in the 
glasses, rejoiced that Savannah is still a rebel city. 
We had been at anchor some hours in Thunder- 
bolt when the owner of a V-bottom speed-boat 
came alongside and asked me (the crew having 
hit the beach in liberty whites) if I would like to 
explore with him the route which we would take 
on leaving. Inasmuch as my chart of Wassaw 
Sound, which lies to westward of Tybee Roads, 
was also superannuated, and since the day, Sat- 
urday, was to be followed not only by Sunday but 
by Decoration day and then Jeff Davis's birth- 
day, when all loyal storekeepers shut up shop, 

70 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

I accepted his offer with much thanks. We 
shot down the Wilmington River and in but 
little more than an hour were arrived at the in- 
let where by observation and by instruction I 
learned the lay of the land. 

Since my host of this occasion, who is a 
thorough-going but inland boatman, asked for 
information on points which to the crew of the 
Hippocampus seemed self-evident, perhaps it will 
be well if I here interpolate a short catechism for 
the edification of readers : 

Q. "Did you come down inside?" 

A. "No ; we draw too much water to make in- 
side running enjoyable, and we have made the 
whole distance outside, including the fearsome 
trip around Hatteras." 

Q. "When you are outside, do you anchor at 
night?" 

A. "No ; when dependent upon sail one cannot 
rely on making harbors at dusk, and we run all 
night, standing regular ship's watches." 

Q. "Is it pretty dark out there at night, or do 
you use a search-light?" 

This is a difficult question to answer in tabloid 

71 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

form. We do not use a search-light, because at 
times there is nothing to see but waves, and given 
the opportunity they will come aboard for close 
inspection. It is dark on overcast nights except 
when lightning illuminates the horizon for brief 
intervals; but on moonlight nights the sea is a 
huge cup of molten silver in which we float with 
the serenity of a gull and the buoyancy of a Por- 
tuguese man-o'-war. Porpoises dive torpedo-like 
beneath our hull, leaving a wake of phosphor- 
escence, and at a distartce other great fish leap 
up and fall to the surface in a shower of pearls. 
Lighthouses cast their benignant radiance upon 
us, and once in a great while a stately steamer, 
catching the red and green beams of our running 
lights, alters course to avoid us. Night follows 
day with even regularity, and is cut from pretty 
much the same cloth. 

A change is welcome, however, and doubly so 
when it comprises such a swimming party as we 
had at the home of Ambrose Gordon, at Beaulieu, 
Georgia. There on Sunday afternoon we exhib- 
ited our sunburn (which in the South is always 
the mark of the Northerner) and executed inept 

72 









MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

dives from a lofty spring-board. In the cool of 
the evening we returned aboard and prepared 
with sleep for a day at the Savannah Country 
Club as the guests of Squibb's boyhood friend, 
Murray Stewart, the son of the mayor of Savan- 
nah. 

By Tuesday morning the sea fever was upon 
us again, and we weighed anchor and stood down 
the Wilmington River to Wassaw Sound, pass- 
ing through the inlet and leaving on either hand 
snow-white beaches where ancient sea-turtles land 
and lay hundreds of eggs in order that Georgians 
may know the gastronomic possibilities of gutta- 
percha. 

Once clear of the sea buoy off Wassaw we 
stopped the motor and hoisted sail, taking full 
advantage of a moderate breeze that had come up 
overnight from the northeast. All that day we 
ran free, now with the sheets to port and again, 
after a carefully executed jibe, with them to star- 
board, and by night we were abreast of Bruns- 
wick Light-vessel. With darkness came a ma- 
terial increase in the strength of the wind, and by 
midnight it was blowing briskly enough to log us 

73 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

six knots under "forestaysail and spanker" — as 
our jib and jigger have been termed in Southern 
waters. 

At 3:30 of the next morning — June 1 — we 
rounded St. Johns lighted buoy and made for 
the entrance between the jetties. Again the 
dead of night found us entering a strange harbor 
with an antiquated chart, for our efforts to pro- 
cure a new one of St. Johns River had been un- 
successful. But this occasion was not the moon- 
lit excursion that we had staged at Tybee Roads. 
All night the wind had blown more briskly until 
at that hour it had developed into a full-fledged 
northeaster — one which was to continue, by the 
way, for ten whole days before the doldrums got 
the better of it — and to add to the merriment the 
tide was at its maximum flood and sweeping ter- 
rifically across the mouth of the river. 

In studying the sailing directions to acquire 
information which our chart could not give me, I 
learned that if a vessel becomes unmanageable 
here in a northerly wind and a flood tide she is 
almost certain to be a total loss on one of the 
jetties. This added zest to the early morning 

74 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

hours and gave point to a sudden call from Cham- 
bers, clinging to the mainmast and peering into 
the darkness. 

"Jetty dead ahead." 

Strangely enough I was not alarmed. We 
were running under power with only the jigger 
set to steady us in the sea that was boiling in to- 
ward the jetties, and for some minutes I had been 
holding the Hippocampus on the first set of 
range lights. But to do so against the current 
I had been obliged to head four points to north- 
ward of the course. Hence it was that we seemed 
to be making for the north jetty and hence my 
reply to Chambers's call: "We couldn't hit that 
one if we tried. Do you see the south jetty?" 

In another minute the strain on the helm was 
eased, and although my eyes were held as by self- 
hypnosis on the white lights of the range I knew 
that we had passed between the converging jetties 
and would soon be in quiet water. A few min- 
utes later my assurance was entirely dissipated 
when I failed to distinguish a cross-over range 
from a dozen winking lights and nearly piled up 
on the south jetty; but after describing two full 

75 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

circles (the mizzen flapping until Paul jumped to 
the halyards and doused it) I got my bearings 
again and we continued to be guided by the ab- 
breviated instructions in the "Light List." Day- 
light overtook us abreast of Mayport, and we 
carried the flood to Jacksonville, jib and jigger 
once more set to assist the engine. Arriving 
there at 8 a. m., we secured after a run which, 
though twice the distance from Charleston to 
Savannah, had been accomplished in less than 
half the time. 

We secured, as I say, and sent out a broadcast 
for Watson B. Donahue. Donnie was my first 
skipper aboard the S. C. 131 9 as trim a chaser as 
sailed the seven seas, and I Ve liked him ever 
since I stepped aboard his ship. I remember 
that I asked him with all the ardor of a new exec 
if he wanted me to turn out early the following 
morning to put the crew to work, and he an- 
swered : 

"Sleep until noon if you wish. The work 
aboard this packet does itself." 

How could I help liking such a commanding 
officer? The crew did, too, and when he left us 

76 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

with the flu at Gibraltar they gave him a silver 
loving-cup. That was at a time when mighty 
few commanding officers of sub-chasers were re- 
ceiving tokens of affection from their crews, and 
he values it almost as much as he does his Navy 
Cross. 

But this is ancient history. Donnie picked up 
the broadcast and it was n't many hours before 
we were bowling over the brick highway to Pablo 
Beach. As it was Shriners' week in Jax the 
beach belonged to the red-fezzed gentry, but we 
visitors w r ere able to dash into the surf occasion- 
ally without interfering with the action of the 
moving-picture cameras. The northeaster blew 
with undiminished vigor, and it was with mingled 
feelings that we viewed the white-caps tumbling 
over one another as far as the eye could reach. 
As a change it was pleasant to be on the shore- 
ward side of the line of breakers, but it was some- 
what tantalizing to be marking time on dry land 
while a fair wind that would have blown us to 
Miami in short order was wasting itself on a de- 
serted ocean. 

On the beach at Pablo we asked Donnie to 

77 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

attend a little council of war in which our future 
itinerary was discussed. Until our arrival at 
Jacksonville we had been minded to strike off 
from the States at Miami, making Bimini the 
first and most important port, and from there 
working to Nassau and through the Tongue of 
the Ocean or Exuma Sound to the Windward 
Passage, and thence between Cuba and Haiti 
to Jamaica. 

But just before our departure for the beach 
I had been studying charts and sailing directions 
with more care and had been brought face to face 
with the fact that the Bahama Banks is a hostile 
region for a sailboat with small power. Lighted 
aids to navigations are few, harbors are fewer, 
and the depths, unless wide detours be taken, are 
little better than a heavy dew. Moreover, there 
is little of interest along the route. 

These facts being presented to Donnie, sitting 
in extraordinary session with the crew, it was 
unanimously voted that we omit the Bahamas 
from our itinerary and make Havana our first 
foreign port. From there it was decided that we 
shall carry the counter-current along the 

78 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

Straits of Florida to Cape San Antonio at the 
northwestern end of Cuba, beat along the south 
shore of that island republic and from a conve- 
nient jumping-off place make Jamaica, with 
Colon our next objective. 

Had we known what was to happen to us at 
Mayport in the night of the second day follow- 
ing we could have spared ourselves immediate 
worry over ultimate adventures. On June 4, 
with a liberal supply of peanut-butter, jam, and 
other necessities of a nomadic existence stowed 
beneath our decks, we cast off from our berth 
along the Jacksonville water-front and stood 
down the river. En route, Squibb, turning to in 
the galley with his accustomed vigor, cooked us 
up a chow that included among the vegetables a 
can of spinach. 

All went well until at 7 p. m. we came to the 
very mouth of the jetties and saw an ominous- 
looking pile of clouds backing against the north- 
east wind. Perhaps, like the Roman army of 
olden times, we had dallied too long at Capua, en- 
joying the fruits of the land. Perhaps we mis- 
read the weather indications. In either event we 

79 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

put back to the town of Mayport and sought an- 
chorage. Finding after two attempts that the 
holding ground was poor we weighed again and 
moored with our starboard side to a barge loaded 
with boulders for the jetties. Two hours later 
the sky cleared and the night was perfect for sail- 
ing south, but when it was suggested to the crew 
that we shove off with the turn of the tide at mid- 
night, the little ptomaines which I believe are in- 
cipient in every can of spinach registered a pro- 
test and we remained where we were. 

I happen to have an old-fashioned horror of 
going adrift from a mooring at night, and so I 
stayed awake until the tide was well on the ebb, 
and then in addition to our bow and stern breast- 
lines and a spring, ran another spring to a nig- 
gerhead on the barge. Satisfied that nothing 
short of an earthquake would move us from our 
snug berth, I took a look around — at the new 
barge to which we were moored, at a second barge 
lying upstream, at the floating derrick above that, 
and at the lashings of the dink secured athwart- 
ship in our cockpit. 

This dink was the joy of our life. It replaced 

80 




Drying clothes after the avalanche had hit the yawl and neatly 
divided the dink in two parts 




Only three planks were crushed by the ten-ton rock, and they 
were readily replaced in Jacksonville 




On the few occasions that the wind was fair, the Hippo raced 
like the sea horse that she is 




The public and exceedingly efficacious baptism of a band of 
negroes in the waters of the St. Johns 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

the one we had lost in the storm off Fenwick Is- 
land Shoals, and was the newly received gift of 
the Skaneateles Boat and Canoe Co. For nearly 
a thousand miles we had gone without a skiff and 
had moored to rickety, unsafe wharves because we 
were unable otherwise to get ashore at pleasure. 
Now that we had a new skiff, with "Hippo- 
campus" painted in gold on both bows, we were 
determined that it should not get away from us, 
come what might in the weather line. Patting 
its varnished sides affectionately, I climbed over 
it, went below, crawled beneath my mosquito- 
bar, and, following the example already set by 
Chambers and Squibb, passed out. 

Such is the effect of wind and sun upon us that 
we can never mahage to go to sleep gracefully. 
We pass out, not to awaken until in the normal 
order of events Paul's mental alarm-clock goes 
off inside his brain and he routs us out. But on 
this night at 1 :05 a. m. we awoke simultaneously 
and completely to the cacophonous tune of splint- 
ered wood, of falling crockery and tinware, and 
— most ominous of all — to the sound of inrushing 
water. The exact sequence of events succeeding 

81 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

this babel of noise would probably be told differ- 
ently by each member of the crew, and I admit 
that I was too dazed by the shock to know what 
had happened or was happening. At first my 
only conscious act was to note the time told by 
the luminous dial of the watch strapped to my 
wrist — and that, I believe, was merely a reflex 
emanating from the days when as quartermaster 
in the navy I was trained to record events and the 
time of their occurrence. 

Chambers was first on deck. He had been 
catapulted from his pipe-berth to my bunk, the 
mosquito-netting proving no barrier to his flight. 
He landed in such a way that he suffered a con- 
tusion to one leg while I sustained a bruise on 
my breast-bone, and I believe that he ricocheted 
from me and was surveying the damage on the 
top-side before the ship had returned to an even 
keel. Squibb followed him out of the compan- 
ionway and I came third, neither of us noticing 
that the doorway was unobstructed until Cham- 
bers cried out, "Boys, the wherry is gone!" 

But he was wrong. The wherry had been 
moved from cockpit to waist-deck but it was 

82 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

there — in two pieces. The larger piece was the 
keel, frames, and planking, and the smaller, the 
stern-piece, cut away as neatly as though it had 
been chiseled. Nevertheless my heart skipped 
a beat and I remember repeating over and over, 
"If we had only put to sea!" 

What had happened to us? I had n't an ink- 
ling of an idea, and Al and Paul admitted that 
they thought we had been cut down by a steamer. 
We were adrift, with our bow line dangling entire 
from the capstan, and one spring gone. The 
other, which had done duty also as the stern 
breast, was severed in one place and secured at 
its other end to the amidship niggerhead of the 
barge, bobbing in the water beside us. Around 
us there was a film of dust on the water, but the 
tide had already carried us out of sight of the 
barge and every other familiar object. 

It may have been seconds or it may have been 

minutes later that I found myself entering the 

cabin after a survey of the deck, preparing at 

Al's suggestion to start the engine. The noise 

of inrushing water had long since stopped, but 

as I stepped off the companionway ladder, a pool 

83 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

gurgled around my ankles and I knew that 
pumping was a prerequisite to getting under way. 
Then I thanked my lucky stars that I had brought 
in addition to our ornamental brass pump one 
of those galvanized affairs with a three-inch dis- 
charge. Paul turned to with this life-saver, and 
in time the lower periphery of the fly-wheel was 
clear of water. 

At this juncture we still had no inkling of 
what had occurred. We knew that although we 
had been badly hurt our fuel-pipes were unbroken 
and that we were taking little more water. But 
we were uncertain of the condition of our power- 
plant, and we were rapidly drifting stern-first to 
ward the jetties. Al, after straigtening up on 
deck, hoisted the jib and jigger, but there was 
insufficient air to stem the force of the tide. To 
anchor in the deep water of the channel seemed 
unwise, since we were not yet sure we would re- 
main afloat. Within my own brain circum- 
stances and ideas were in a state bordering on 
chaos up to the moment in which, working auto- 
matically, I went through the preliminary mo- 

84 



: 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

tions of starting the motor and placed my hands 
on the rim of the fly-wheel. 

With one turn she was firing, and I closed the 
compression-cocks and bounded to the deck. 
Taking the tiller I glanced at the radiolite com- 
pass, looked about me, and recognized one light 
of the many round us. Although embarked 
upon a sailing cruise I am still enough of a motor- 
boatman to feel the steadying effect of power, 
and the act of transmitting our motive force to 
the propeller cleared my brain and orientated me 
with respect to our position in the river. Then, 
despite the blackness of the night, it was a simple 
matter to buck the tide and make a landing 
alongside a tug secured to a wharf in Mayport. 
It was then after two in the morning and time 
for a chow and for a post-mortem examination 
and deductions, for we were still uncertain of the 
cause of our mishap. Chambers furnished the 
key from which the three of us worked out the 
details of the mystery. The stone barge to which 
we had been moored, falling with the ebbing tide, 
had caught its inboard side on a submerged pile 

85 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

and canted over, spilling its deck load of boulders 
in our direction. One stone weighing — we were 
informed later in the morning — ten tons had 
carried away the eight-by-eight-inch niggerhead 
of the barge before striking us. 

The first shock of the impact against our craft 
had been taken up by our unfortunate wherry, 
lashed directly in the way, and had given the 
Hippocampus time to spring slightly away from 
the barge. The yawl had, of course, heeled over 
as soon as she felt the weight of the boulder, and 
as the dink crashed and was pushed to one side, 
the stone settled and nicked one corner of the 
deck-house before striking the starboard waist 
deck and falling into the water. Another 
boulder had left its mark on the planking under 
the forward shrouds, and a third had scored one 
of the mizzen chain-plates; but the major part of 
the 200 tons of rock with which the barge had 
been loaded passed harmlessly into the water. 

Arrived at these conclusions we pumped the 
bilge dry and examined more carefully the 
damage to our deck and side. With relief we 
found that no injury had been done below the 

86 






MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

water-line, and that aside from broken coaming, 
deck cover strip, and three planks in the top- 
side which were crushed in part and would re- 
quire renewal, we were unharmed. The frames 
and knees were uninjured, and the seams being 
tight, we were taking water only in one place 
above the water-line where the small waves 
splashed up against a fractured plank. A can- 
vas patch battened over the damaged area kept 
out the water, and by eight o'clock we were under 
way for Jacksonville, a much-needed breakfast 
tucked beneath our belts and a measure of com- 
posure in our minds. 

Motoring up the river past the disabled barge, 
we had more leisure to congratulate ourselves on 
our escape and to conjecture what would have 
happened under slightly different circumstances 
of the accident. If, for instance, the boulder 
had landed three feet farther forward it 
would have crashed through the carlines of the 
cabin-house and pinned me to my bunk. Or if 
the wherry had not been lashed across the cock- 
pit the boulder might have fallen inboard and 
taken us to the bottom with it. If the barge 

87 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

in canting over had not floated our bow-line clear 
of the niggerhead, and if the amidship bollard 
had not been carried away, the strength of our 
four lines would have held us close to in a position 
to receive the entire 200 tons of jetty rock. 

These were the major possibilities, and the 
minor escapes seemed no less miraculous. For 
example, our two compasses bracketed the 
wherry — one in its fixed position on the cabin 
bulkhead, and the other temporarily placed just 
abaft the small boat. Neither was so much as 
scratched. The shrouds, spars, and all the rig- 
ging, with the exception of one backstay runner 
block which Al easily repaired, escaped injury, 
and we lost overboard no equipment except an 
agate wash-basin, two rope fenders, and half a 
pound of butter which one of us slid on as he 
hit the deck. 

The extent to which Hippocampus rolled under 
the impact was shown in three ways : first by the 
opened cover of our chronometer box; second, 
by the high-water mark on the clothes-locker 
overhead, and third by a dent in the woodwork 
left by a falling fire-extinguisher. This ex- 

88 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

tinguisher normally hangs from a hook on the 
port side abaft the galley, about five feet from 
the deck. It detached itself and struck the face 
of the clothes-locker opposite at a point only 
one foot lower. All this indicated that the yawl 
rolled nearly to seventy-five degrees, and we 
thanked our ton of outside ballast for bringing 
us back to an even keel. 

Chiefly, however, we thanked Hippocampus 
herself (and her designer and builder) for being 
the stanchest boat of her length afloat. Her 
two-inch oak frames and one-inch planking took 
the shock so evenly that when, upon our arrival 
in Jacksonville, a boat-builder looked her over, 
he promised that in four days she would be as 
good as new. 

This boat-builder was F. J. Davenport, of the 
Riverside Boat Manufacturing Co., to whose 
capable attention I take pleasure in referring 
other yachtsmen who may find themselves in 
trouble in Jacksonville. Without hauling us 
out he had two men at work on the side Tuesday 
morning, and by Friday evening only two 
patches of new canvas on our cabin-house and 

89 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

deck told the story of the casualty. Three short 
lengths of plank secured with three-inch brass 
screws, an eight-foot section of the cover strip, 
a twelve-foot piece of oak coaming, and two 
or three pieces of half-round — these constituted 
the items of lumber that went to rejuvenate the 
Hippocampus. 

The dink was turned over to Andrews, another 
* Jacksonville builder, and before we were again 
ready to sail she was floating as saucily as before 
under our counter, a new stern-piece of cypress 
replacing the broken part. Priming and paint 
were applied to our side and deck, and on Sun- 
day morning, one week behind schedule, we were 
ready to renew our travels. 

Needless to say, if we had had the ordering 
of events apportioned us by destiny we should 
have omitted what Paul calls "rocking the boat." 
But having already learned in stress of weather 
what the little yawl is good for, we now know 
what she is made of, and we are more than ever 
confident that the stanchness of her timbers will 
carry us to the journey's end. 

One word more to close the episode of the ava- 

90 



MISFORTUNE OVERTAKES US 

lanche. As we were limping away from May- 
port on our return trip to Jacksonville a shrill- 
voiced lady of the port called after us, "Well, I 
guess you '11 know better next time than to tie to 
a rock barge." 

Indeed we shall. And when passing under 
draw-bridges of the lift type we shall expect 
them to fall on us. We shall be prepared for 
blizzards in the tropics and water-spouts in the 
Panama Canal, and on every point we shall try 
to meet the unexpected more than half-way. 
Anticipation is only one of the many joys of 
cruising. 



91 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

EVERY one who has cruised extensively 
is aware that itineraries are made only to be 
altered and that promises to gain or leave a port 
at any stated time are of the substance of gos- 
samer. Knowing this, I yet ventured to predict 
in print that the run of the twenty-eight-foot 
Hippocampus from New York to Panama would 
commence with a few rapid tacks down the east 
coast of the United States, continue with a 
meteoric flight through the West Indies, and 
conclude with a care-free sail across the 
Caribbean. Had I been Croesus and able to 
expend untold sums in gasolene we might have 
carried out this program, subject, of course, to 
the vagaries of all mechanical contraptions. 
But, being more comparable to a certain 
domestic fowl that was wont to scratch gravel 
in the portico of the late lamented Job, I am 
dependent upon the whims of the wind — and 

92 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

find that my predictions are less than worthless. 
We are now, eight weeks from New York, only 
ninety miles out of the shadow of the Stars 
and Stripes. 

For several weeks we Hippocampi were given 
to dating events from the night of the Big Wind 
off the Delaware Capes. Other circumstances 
shrank into significance by comparison with the 
occasion on which Joe Chambers, then known as 
Al, revealed his skill as a yachtsman extraor- 
dinary, and Joe Squibb, alias Paul, won the 
right to his designation of Sea-going Gadget. 
We endured other storms of wind and rain, 
wore our oilskins threadbare, and became inured 
to biting spray; but these supplementary affairs 
were unworthy of mention to the old and new 
friends we met en route. 

Then came the night at Mayport, Florida, 
which gave us a new topic of conversation. The 
storm is forgotten, except that we remark 
parenthetically that the Hippocampus has proved 
her seaworthiness, and we reckon all our good 
fortune and bad luck from the night of the 
avalanche. We are lucky indeed to be alive to 

93 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

tell about it, but unlucky in being a bad two 
weeks behind schedule because of it. For by 
lying a week in Jacksonville to undergo repairs 
we lost the fine northeast wind that would have 
blown us in jig-time to Miami. 

When, on the morning of Sunday, June 12, 
we were finally ready to shove off, we delayed 
yet another hour to witness the public and ex- 
ceedingly efficacious baptism of a band of negroes 
in the waters of the St. Johns. These devout 
Baptists, indifferent alike to the clicking cameras 
of the white folks and the crude oil which floats 
on the surface of the river, underwent their 
services near the mouth of a sanctimonious old 
sewer to westward of the Hippocampus, chant- 
ing continuously a stirring baptismal hymn. 
So captivating were both refrain and music that 
the two Joes, waiting impatiently to cast off 
our mooring-lines, succumbed to their lure, and 
now we weigh anchor and haul halyards to the 
newest of sea chanties : 

Whosoever will, let him come, 

Let him come, 
And drink of the river of life. 
94 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

So, humming and whistling to memorize the 
air, we let go, waved good-by to my old ship- 
mate Donahue, and stood down the river of St. 
Johns. Past the scene of the avalanche we went, 
and through the jetties for which the invading 
rock had been intended, and when we were out- 
side and found the day fair and the breeze 
unfavorable, we thought it as good a time as 
any to photograph the Hippocampus under 
sail. The crew brought the yawl into stays and 
I jumped, camera in hand, into our rejuvenated 
dink, and for the first time gained an outboard 
view of the ship in action. She is every inch 
a ship, viewed from any angle, and I must say 
that I am proud to be one of three who are 
pointing her inquiring nose into new harbors 
and along strange waterways. 

Except for the short time that she was sailing 
before the eye of the camera on that day she had 
little opportunity to run her gait, for the wind 
was dead against us. During the evening and 
night we beat north by east and reached south- 
southwest, the closest we could come to our 
southeasterly course, and in so doing we began 

95 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

a monotonous tacking contest that lasted for 
six whole days. The wind veered from east to 
southwest and back again, its shifts usually 
catching us in a poor position with respect to the 
beach to take advantage of them, and not for 
five days and twenty-three hours of the six did 
we sail with the wind abaft the beam. 

This is the discouraging part of sailing, but, 
to make it worse, we were frequently becalmed 
and at times were subject to the northward set 
of the Gulf Stream along the Florida coast. 
Contrary winds and calms we endured with some 
equanimity, the weather being otherwise perfect, 
but when, on the morning of the third day out 
of Jacksonville, we found ourselves somewhere 
off Cape Canaveral and the cobalt blue of the 
water told us that we were in the full strength 
of the stream, we lost our ample fund of patience 
and started the Palmer motor. Leaving all 
sail set to steady us in the seaway, and heading 
as close to the southwest wind as we could with- 
out luffing, we soon picked up Hetzel Shoal 
buoy on our port bow, and then lowered the 

96 




Eagle 39 would gladly have given the Hippocampus a tow if she 
hadn't been in need of one herself 




So the yawl hooked on to the escorting navy tug and whiled 
away a hundred miles of utmost ease 







At the lowest estimate, 943,261 Americans have snapped Morro 
Castle since the dawn of prohibition 




Havana harbor has come vividly to life in recent years, but 
sailing ships still give it color 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

mainsail and left the smaller sails flapping as we 
steered to pass it close aboard. 

In time the breeze died away and we decided 
to continue past the cape and keep the motor 
running until we had another slant of wind. 
By now we had had enough experience with the 
weather to forecast with some accuracy the di- 
rection of the wind, and we were off shore when 
a southeasterly breeze sprang up and sent us 
under sail alone on a long tack for the beach. 
Consequent upon some manoeuvering, a south- 
westerly sent us out to Bethel Shoal buoy and 
on the morning of the next day delivered us into 
the good graces of another easterly. By these 
tactics and a judicious use of the motor to give 
us an offing now and again we spent the day, 
but that night the wind completely forsook us 
and we ran all night under power, arriving off 
Palm Beach at eleven in the morning of Friday. 

Here the opportunity presented to step ashore 
and stretch our legs and to replenish our store of 
matches and cigarettes. So in fifteen feet of 
water we anchored a hundred yards or so north- 

97 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

east of the pier, and I swam ashore, accompanied 
by Al in the wherry. Arrived on the beach we 
found it so hot to our bare feet that we gladly 
accepted a loan of two bicycles offered us by some 
workmen (who said they would take the yawl as 
security for their safe return) and we were soon 
pedaling down the deserted streets of Florida's 
winter capital. 

Those who have seen it in February, a glare 
of color and the essence of the continent's fashion, 
will be grieved to know that in summer Palm 
Beach boasts but one open establishment besides 
the post-office. Sun-dried lawns or boarded-up 
hotels met our glance on every side, and Al 
and I thought almost that we had come to an 
abandoned village until in the only store we 
bought some soda-pop and learned that Palm 
Beach prices prevail. Thus reassured, we 
mailed our post-cards, bought our smoking 
material, and returned by wheel and rowboat to 
the yawl. 

Paul, tending ship and swimming over side 
in our absence, had decided that a protracted 

98 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

view of the barn-like sides of the Breakers was 
sight-seeing enough for him, so we weighed 
anchor and under sail started to annihilate the 
remaining sixty miles to Miami. Here we had 
come to that stretch of Florida's mainland along 
which the Gulf Stream cuts the closest, and to 
avoid its current we ran almost within tossing 
distance of the beach. Al, standing the first 
watch that night, saw homebodies reading in the 
glow of their study-lamps, and vainly envied the 
speed of motor-cars flitting along the coastal 
road between Hillsboro Inlet and the Beach. 

But the setting moon took from him the ability 
to gage our distance from the beach, and morning 
found us fog-bound safely off soundings. The 
fog, liberally diluted with pungent smoke from 
some distant fire in the Everglades, burned off 
at six o'clock, and the increased visibility re- 
vealed us bearing down on Biscayne buoy, north 
of the entrance to Miami. For several hours 
we had been running by motor over a sea so calm 
that our booms, suspended from idle sails, 
scarcely left their amidship position, but now a 

99 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

fair wind came into life and for the last five 
miles of our six days' run we sailed with free 
sheets. 

Entering the government cut under power 
alone we chugged up the new dredged channel to 
an oil-wharf «and there acquired misinformation 
that initiated us into the innermost circles of 
Florida cruisers. Within three hundred yards 
of Biscayne Bay Yacht Club we grounded in 
four and a half feet of water. But muscles, 
motors, and kedge anchors were especially 
fashioned for cruising in Florida's inland water- 
ways, and before long we were afloat and riding 
to anchor. 

Miami has changed miraculously since last I 
saw it eight years ago, but the hospitality of my 
old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Matheson, re- 
mains the same— kind and open-hearted. 

"Why think of going on," they urged, during 
an informal inspection of Hippocampus, "when 
there is no more wind than there has been? 
Come to Cocoanut Grove and rest awhile." 

So we locked up the little yawl and for three 
days knew the luxury of good company, real 

100 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

food, cool sheets, and fresh water in bath-tub 
quantities. Then, although there was little wind, 
we refused heroically to impose further on our 
hosts, and, gladdened by a small cargo of Mathe- 
son limes, set sail for Key West. 

We set sail, but hardly had we cleared the gov- 
ernment cut when we saw bearing down on us the 
knife-like prow of U. S.S.Eagle 39. She is 
one of those amazing war-time products of Ford 
car genealogy, all tin and angles, and as we had 
inspected her at her mooring at Jacksonville we 
recognized her from afar and knew that her desti- 
nation was Key West. So was ours. What 
more fair than that we proceed together? 

So, although we were out of signal distance, 
we tacked twice, thereby attracting the attention 
of her quartermaster, and with my ex-service 
semaphore flags I sent this unpresumptuous mes- 
sage : 

To Captain Strumm : Will you tow us to Key West ? 

By way of answer the Eagle-boat changed her 
course the better to intercept us, and presently 
we received a request to repeat our message. 

101 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

That done we were ordered within hail and when, 
our motor now propelling us, we came within 
speaking distance, we learned to our immeasur- 
able sorrow that Eagle 39 was in bad straits and 
could not give us a tow. Captain Strumm added 
through his megaphone, 

"We have been four days coming from Jack- 
sonville, and there is a tug standing by to tow 
us in the event of another breakdown." 

The mention of a tug gave us new hope, and, 
thanking the captain for his honest regret at his 
inability to tow us, we squared off in the direc- 
tion of the tug and repeated our first message. 
This time the answer came as a wave of the hand 
and a long surveillance of us through a spy-glass. 
To forestall a possible negative reply I added 
the pleading words : 

"We are the yawl Hippocampus, bound for 
Panama, and we have been meeting head winds 
all the way." 

There came another wave of the hand, the 
clang of a bell in the engine-room, a stir of activ- 
ity on the tug's fantail, and — well, it seems in- 
conceivable to this day that in three minutes we 

102 






WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

were towing securely at the end of a four-inch 
line. 

We looked at one another in amazement and 
some one voiced the thought of all of us. 

"Did you ever see such nerve, asking a navy 
tug for a tow — and getting away with it?" 

None of us had, but Chambers and I thanked 
fortune for our training in the sub-chasers where 
the bold broke even with the game and only the 
downright brazen got what they thought was 
due them. 

The knowledge that the acceptance of a tow- 
line is considered ignominious by the yachting 
fraternity troubled us not at all. We congratu- 
lated ourselves on our good luck, hoped fervently 
that the Eagle-boat would not break down, and 
for the first time on our cruise prayed that the 
wind would die away and stay dead until we had 
reached Key West. No prayer more certain of 
fulfilment could be uttered in June along the 
Florida coast, and all day and until four the fol- 
lowing morning we swung at six or seven knots 
over a calm, limpid sea. Counting the lights 
as we put them behind us — Fowey Rocks, Carys- 

103 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

fort Reef, and Alligator Reef — we at length 
sighted Sombrero Key and knew that in another 
three hours we would be past the zone of the 
three-knot northward current. 

Al had the watch when at 3 :30 he called down 
the hatch, "O boys, the Eagle has let go a 
rocket." Sleepy as Paul and I were we knew 
what that meant, and we clambered regretfully 
.to the top-side ready to cast off our tow-line and 
hoist sail. Megaphoned orders came almost im- 
mediately from the tug, and in a few minutes we 
were on our way again. But Sombrero Key was 
nearly abeam, the worst of the current was be- 
hind us, and, what was more to the point, a fair 
breeze from the northeast had come to our re- 
lief. 

Until two hours after daylight the wind held 
and we kept abreast of the tug, laboriously tow- 
ing the Eagle-boat, but then we fell astern and 
in time found it expedient to start the motor and 
speed our slow progress. We caught up with 
the naval vessels again as they entered Key West, 
and, politely standing by to give them access to 

104 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

the old submarine basin, followed them in and 
made fast to a wharf. 

A colored policeman promptly informed us 
that it was customary to secure permission before 
entering the navy yard, but on Al's hopeful as- 
surance that permission would soon be forth- 
coming we were allowed to remain where we were. 
Al, who knows the yard and some of its personnel 
from war-time days, scouted around and in short 
order we were invited by the commandant himself 
to select our berth and stay as long as we liked. 
Hence, we naturally gravitated to the side of a 
submarine chaser — the 190 — and there made our- 
selves comfortable. 

Our four days in Key West were compounded 
of heat, thunderstorms, and navy hospitality. 
We were invited to supper one evening in the 
wardroom of Eagle 39, where we ate good food 
and swapped experiences, and by the yard offi- 
cials we were tendered the privilege of buying 
stores and gasolene at cost prices. A representa- 
tive of the press visited us aboard and was re- 
sponsible in the "Key West Citizen" for the start- 

105 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

ling news that one of our crew, Paul Squibb, 
would reenlist in the navy following his cruise in 
the Hippocampus. This was good journalism, 
being true except in the minor particular that the 
one of us who did improve his stay at Key West 
by reenrolling in the reserve was one Lieutenant 
( j. g.) J. A. Chambers. Paul, who served in the 
artillery, still stands by his guns. 

Pleasant and profitable though our stay was 
in the southernmost and least American city of 
the United States, the terrific heat would have 
driven us away quickly if heat alone could have 
filled our sails. Finally, on Sunday, June 26, 
we awoke to a breeze that promised business, and 
with our good-bys and thanks expressed, we 
were soon under way and headed for Sand Key 
via the Rock Key Channel. Watching the color 
of the water to get a foretaste of the eyesight 
navigation that awaits us, we threaded our way 
around and over a coral reef or two, and in two 
hours were in the Gulf Stream, southward bound 
for Havana. 

We feel a little proud of the landfall we made 
in entering our first foreign port. The currents 

106 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

in the turbulent ninety miles of blue water sepa- 
rating the island republic of Cuba from her god- 
parent are numerous and swift, and it is not un- 
usual for vessels with greater speed and better 
navigational equipment than ours to err a matter 
of five or ten miles in sighting Morro Castle. 
Yet we, aided by luck and current information 
gained at Key West, ran our courses for eighteen 
hours and in the nineteenth found ourselves in 
danger of being run down by the Key West-Ha- 
vana ferry Parrot, so closely did her course paral- 
lel our own. Daylight came before we sighted 
O'Donnell Light, but in another six hours we 
sidled under the castle's ancient walls, buffeted 
by flaws of wind from the east. 

Presenting to the medical officer the clean bill 
of health which we had obtained from the Cuban 
consul at Key West, we were informed that we 
were free to land and make ourselves at home, 
but that since we had not been fumigated we 
must anchor in the bay. So we cast off from 
the port-officer's dock, passed over the historic 
spot where the U. S. S. Maine was sunk, and, 
after some searching for a likely anchorage, let 

107 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

go near the utilitarian but picturesque Machinas 
dock. 

It is now time for me to ask the reader to 
guess what we did immediately after setting foot 
on foreign soil for the first time in many, many 
months. Perhaps, though, I should save him the 
trouble of guessing. 

We first telephoned to some friends of Cham- 
bers's and then inquired our way to the post- 
office, a huge building converted from an historic 
Catholic Church. Then, finding that for the 
first time in the course of our travels, we were 
ahead of the mail, we walked to O'Reilly Street, 
named for a Cuban patriot, and in an American 
shop left some films for development. Dodging 
the terrible Fording os (as Cubans term the 
familiar Ford, which, all decked out in gorgeous 
upholstery, taxies in great numbers along Hav- 
ana's congested thoroughfares) we next strolled 
about looking for a restaurant. When we had 
found one that seemed commensurate both with 
our fastidiousness and the leanness of our pocket 
books, we entered, sat down before a clean 
white tablecloth, and ordered a meal which in 

108 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

eluded Spanish omelet and an ice-cream flavored 
with the delicious tropical fruit mamey. All of 
this, which is long-winded in the telling, but was 
longer in the happening, we did before — 

We ordered a round of daiquiris. 

A daiquiri, be it known, comes to the table in 
a cool, dewy glass of the type used at home in 
the ancient, unregenerate heyday of the cock- 
tail. In color it may be a delicate shade of green 
or it may be the hue of claret. But it contains 
no such vinous admixture, being composed of 
lime, sugar, and the finest Bacardi rum. It was 
my treat, in expiation of the old sin of making 
an atrocious landfall at Charleston, South Caro- 
lina, and we drank to happy days. Were I a 
doctor I would universally prescribe daiquiris for 
parched throats and arid dispositions. 

Feeling much refreshed by the mamey ice- 
cream, we returned aboard to make up arrears 
in correspondence, and in the evening dragged 
aching feet, unused to the confinement of shoe- 
leather, down Havana's famous Prado to the 
Malecon. There on the sea-wall we watched the 
slowly revolving beam of the O'Donnell Light- 

109 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

house on Morro Castle, or looked westward over 
the smooth, silent sea which we are to traverse in 
rounding the western end of Cuba. 

The next day as guests of an hospitable Ameri- 
can resident in Havana we motored to the Playa 
Marianao, where, near the anchored fleet of the 
flourishing Havana Yacht Club, we swam with- 
out fear of molestation by the sharks, and be- 
tween dips more firmly cemented our friend- 
ship with Bacardi. Chambers, glancing over the 
sonder boats hauled out or anchored off the yacht 
club's wharf, saw something familiar in their lines 
and later learned that among them are the old 
Marblehead racers Sprig, Ellen, Vim, and Har- 
poon. After dark we played hosts aboard, Paul 
serving a delectable supper of fried bananas and 
frankfurters, washed down by temperance drafts 
of the juice of limes from the Matheson groves. 

And now, having viewed the more accessible 
sights of Havana and employed the better part o 
another day securing the health papers necessary 
for clearance, we are ready to penetrate still 
farther into the unknown. We would stay 
longer in the picturesque capital exploring its 

110 



: 



WE TOUCH FOREIGN SOIL 

fortresses, admiring its parks and the shrub-em- 
broidered streets of its suburbs, and basking in 
the quaint beauty of its narrow streets and sun- 
baked buildings. But the West Indies lie be- 
fore us, and Panama is a long six-hundred-mile 
jump from Jamaica. Moreover, the "July- 
Stand-by' ' season of the hurricane is upon us, and 
there is a certain need for haste. So to-morrow, 
with the first daily breath of the northeast trades, 
we are off for the Isle of Pines. 






in 



VI 

SUCH THINGS AS WATERSPOUTS 

MONTHS ago when the cruise of the yawl 
Hippocampus was no more than an unre- 
lated idea I resolved to prepare myself for 
foreign' lands by the assimilation of Spanish. 
With characteristic application I devoted a day 
or two to the mastery of such words as agua, 
leche, and the Spanish equivalents of other vital 
necessities, little realizing that to get along in 
Latin America one need know only the words 
frias cervezas and dos mas. Being so ignorant 
of the Arcadian simplicity of life in Cuba, I 
struggled manfully with the language en route 
thereto, never succeeding, however, in surmount- 
ing the bristly barrier comprised by Habla Vd. 
espafiol? 

Try as I would, I couldn't pronounce Vd. 
Nor, after several weeks in Cuban waters, have 

112 




Bahia Honda still drives its ox-teams, undisturbed by the 
frenzied Fordingos of Havana's streets 




At the entrance to Cienfuegos Hippocampus anchored, 250 years 
too late to be attacked by pirates 




Amateur equilibrists on the teetering pole of the Cienfuegos 
sharkproof swimming enclosure 




Breakfast eggs, at ten cents apiece, taste like molten gold when 
cooked with feminine finesse 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

I heard any one else pronounce it. One hears 
listed frequently, which I thought at first was 
a surname as commonplace as Smith, but never 
the angular contraction. So I am forced to be- 
lieve that the abbreviation is designed solely to 
discourage foreigners from learning the lan- 
guage. 

Reacting from this discouragement I declined 
absolutely to learn Cuban customs, and am now 
in a position to inform other yachtsmen that by 
assuming an unsophisticated mien they may enter 
and leave the little republic without paying a 
single bribe. Health bills for a yacht as small 
as the Hippocampus are as free as air, and these, 
obtainable from the local port officer, are the 
only requisite clearance papers. 

On our way to pick up the documents, we 
weighed anchor in Havana harbor, waved 
good-by to two American motor-boats whose 
owners had cruised over from Florida for a holi- 
day, and stood out toward Morro Castle. For 
two reasons we were interested in these Ameri- 
cans ; first, because they had had the hardihood to 
cross the Gulf Stream in motor-boats of less than 

113 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

twenty-five-foot length, and second, because of 
their evident unfamiliarity with long-distance 
cruising. They seemed typical of a class of 
American motor-boatmen who will go anywhere 
(and get back), knowing little and caring less 
for charts and other government publications. 

Their ignorance, if such it was, was revealed 
by their telling us enthusiastically of a fine 
"map" of West Indian waters that could be ob- 
tained free of charge at the American consulate. 

"It shows all the islands," they confided, "and 
the principal harbors, and little arrows tell 
which way the wind blows and how the currents 
flow for the month of July. You '11 make a mis- 
take if you try to navigate down here without 



one." 



Among our many mistakes this one was not 
included. We had long since provided ourselves 
with the chart they spoke of — "July Pilot Chart 
for Central American Waters" — and when, a 
month previously, we had decided to omit the 
Bahamas from our itinerary, we had let our new 
.plans be determined by the current information 
of this chart. From it we learned that a cur- 

114 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

rent running counter to the Gulf Stream would 
assist us along the northern coast of Cuba to 
Cape San Antonio and that another counter- 
current, flowing westward along the south shore, 
would speed us nearly to Jamaica. 

But in the days following our clearance from 
Havana we found that it is one thing for a gov- 
ernment to print current arrows on a chart and 
quite another to expect the currents to conform 
to the direction of the arrows. Hence, in the 
flat calm of the first night out, we drifted ten 
miles back along our course, and hence, in the 
ensuing doldrums south of the Isle of Pines, we 
were never able to assume a dead reckoning posi- 
tion that bore any close relation to our actual 
position. We have since been told that the 
minor currents of the Caribbean shift like the 
sands of the desert and that only the main streams 
are constant in their direction and intensity. 
These, worse luck, are all against the southward- 
bound traveler, whether he go eastward or west- 
ward of Cuba. 

The first afternoon along the Cuban shore was 
a tonic that pulled us up from the subnormal in- 

115 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

duced by our many days of beating down the 
Floridian coast. We skirted close to the beach, 
hunting that elusive counter-current, and the soft 
wind blew from the land, sweet with the fra- 
grance of tropical vegetation. From midday on 
the mainsail shaded us from the rays of the 
westering sun, and we all, helmsman included, 
dozed on deck or watched with supreme content- 
ment the unfolding panorama of the shore. The 
busy log revolved unheeded, for we were in- 
formed of our position by the tall gray chimneys 
of the Centrales, where the Cuban sugar-cane 
is refined for the market, and by the mountain 
ranges that soon appeared through the haze to 
westward. 

Even the calm of that night was enjoyable, al- 
though each minute reduced our easting and 
helped restrict our twenty-four-hour total to only 
forty miles made good. In the morning when 
the breeze followed the sun over the eastern 
horizon we headed in high spirits toward the har- 
bor of Bahia Honda, there to stop for a few hours 
and see Cuba as it really is, divested of the cos- 
mopolitanism of Havana. Guided by informa- 

116 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

tion contained in the sailing directions and by the 
color of the water, we stood in past a point domi- 
nated by a romantic, disused castle, and sailed 
down a line of buoys arranged uniformly with the 
United States system. 

Before us and on each side as we drew close 
to the head of the bay arose clusters of peaks 
which might have been thrown there by the hand 
of an unpractised Creator, so jagged and precip- 
itous and irregular did they appear. But in 
the foreground the foot-hills were orderly 
enough, and I was quick to compare certain fea- 
tures of them with the Connecticut Berkshires. 

"Yes," drawled Squibb, taking in the land- 
scape through his captured German field-glasses, 
"You 'd say you were in Connecticut if it 
weren't for the royal palms silhouetted above 
their summits, or for the thatched-roofed cottage 
in the middle of that cane-field." 

I withdrew my comparison and pulled vindic- 
tively at the fish-line which Squibb had trailed 
over our counter a few minutes previously. To 
my surprise it resisted my pull. In great ex- 
citement I handed the line to Squibb and with 

117 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

great precision he hauled it in, watching the glint 
of sunlight on silver scales. No science there, 
with a meal at stake. The hooked fish came in 
like nothing more nor less than five pounds of 
dinner, and in ten seconds he was flapping in the 
cockpit. 

There he stayed while under reduced sail we 
sounded our way beyond the innnermost buoy. 
Then, when we had come to anchor in less than 
two fathoms off a building euphemistically 
termed a warehouse by the hydrographic office 
literati, the first business of the noon-hour was 
to clean the fish and fry him in cracker-crumbs. 
Joe Chambers once had an experience with lob- 
ster which destroyed for him the palatability of 
all sea-foods, but he actually likes to skin, clean, 
and cook fish. I like to watch him, and it is my 
chief regret of this cruise that I have n't done so 
oftener. 

We have trolled over likely-looking reefs, 
fished when becalmed, and attempted to scoop 
up minnows in the canvas deck-bucket, but luck 
does n't favor our enterprise. Once a fish bit 
Joe Squibb's big toe (or so he says) when he was 

118 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

dangling his feet over the side, and often when 
becalmed we have seen zebra fish — to give them 
a descriptive name — playing in the shadow of 
our hull. Once also a shark fished for me, as 
may be mentioned presently, but only at Bahia 
Honda have we come to culinary conclusions with 
the aquatic tribe. 

Lunch over, we put on a few clothes, landed 
in the dink, and walked a country road between 
rows of mango-trees for a matter of a mile to 
the village of Bahia Honda. It is not metropoli- 
tan, nor fashionable, nor wildly exciting, but it 
satisfied our desire for a glimpse of rural Cuban 
life. From within a wooden barracks over 
which floated the lone star of the republic 
sounded the click of typewriter keys, and from 
a house fronting the grass-grown central square 
came the tortured lament of a tuneless piano. 
These were the only village noises, as even the 
dogs were taking their afternoon siesta. 

Turkey-buzzards wheeled over the weather- 
beaten square tower of the village church, or 
sat awkwardly on its balcony, and a military 
horse, tethered in the shade of a picket-house, 

119 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

pawed the ground absent-mindedly. Other 
activity was notably lacking, except in the local 
department-store where a family of Chinamen 
sold everything from wine to straw hats, and 
where the two Joes drank their frias cervezas. 
Disliking beer, I had my refreshment from a keg 
of vino bianco, and hoped devoutly as I drank 
from a dirty glass that germs were as dormant 
as the rest of Bahia Honda. 

Laden with sugar and a few other necessities 
forgotten at Havana, we returned to the ship 
and were shortly under way. With gasolene at 
sixty-five cents a gallon we are sparing of the 
use of power and lavish of our time, and we were 
two hours beating the four miles to the mouth 
of the harbor. Yet it is ever a delight to sail 
Hippocampus in still water, and we did not be- 
grudge the time. Darkness overtook us as we 
neared the entrance — the darkness of a horde of 
mosquitoes swarming out from the near-by man- 
groves. And when by the use of citronella we 
had cleared the atmosphere, the flashing light of 
iGobernadora Point reminded us that we had 
ended another day. 

120 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

On the one following we were becalmed off an 
island known as Jutias Cay, from whose light- 
house I was able to check the accuracy of a 
sight taken for longitude. Nothing worthy of 
comment happened until early in the evening, 
when the easterly wind having again arisen, pick- 
ing up a rolling sea with it, our towing dink 
overtook us and stove a small hole in her bow. 
Then, as we should have done before, we hauled 
the dink aboard and lashed it athwartships across 
the cockpit, and not since have we towed it in 
a following sea. 

Another day saw us still to eastward of Cape 
San Antonio, but early the next morning we 
rounded it and entered on a new phase of cruis- 
ing life. From Bahia Honda to the western end 
of Cuba we had skirted a coast which, although 
bounded by a barrier reef of coral extending 
several miles from shore, is at least partially 
lighted. Up to Jutias Cay we had kept fairly 
\well inshore, drawn by the wild beauty of the 
high mountains of the Sierra Acostas. We had 
sighted an occasional passing ship or glimpsed 
native fishing craft threading the shoal water- 

121 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

ways behind the barrier reef, and so we had felt 
somewhat in touch both with nature and with 
humanity. But now for a hundred miles to the 
Isle of Pines we were to be isolated from ship 
and shore, and again from there to Cienfuegos 
equally destitute of companionship. 

Moreover, the wind which had been for us was 
now against us, and the squalls that had dis- 
sipated themselves in the mountains were now to 
dash upon us. As we rounded Antonio and 
headed up into rollers which had come all the 
way from Haiti to greet us we realized that we 
could say good-by to idyllic cruising. Yet, as 
we were to learn later, we were particularly 
favored by fortune in making the Isle of Pines 
within two days of rounding the cape. All told, 
we were becalmed only ten and a half hours, and 
in the forty-eight met only two arched squalls 
and one bayamo. 

An arched squall, which appears to be native 
to Caribbean waters, is recognizable by a heavy 
black line of low cumulus clouds which, coming 
up or down the wind, brings a puff of great 
intensity, or a tropical shower of rain, or both. 

122 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

It usually sucks all the wind out of the sky and 
is followed by an indeterminate period of ab- 
solute calm. A bayamo, more or less indigenous 
to the south shore of Cuba, is more terrific in ap- 
pearance and in our experience more freighted 
with trouble. It may strike at any hour of the 
day, but appears to favor the twilight period 
when the crew of what Al calls "a corker little 
yawl" would like to be settling down for the 
night. 

Before describing it let me explain that in the 
Caribbean Sea we have seen more varieties of 
clouds and more combinations than the imagina- 
tion can encompass. I used to cite the region 
of the Azores as the unrivalled cloud factory 
of the Western Ocean, but I shall hereafter 
refer budding meteorologists to the south shore 
of Cuba. 

One sees here pitch-black masses that along 
the Maine coast would turn a hardened salt gray 
with fear, and thinks nothing of them. The sun- 
sets are often a nasty, wind-torn green that in 
the vicinity of New York would send crack 
Atlantic liners looking for shelter up the Shrews- 

123 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

bury River — and the night is calm and starlit. 
The sun rises behind a bank of cumulus, covering 
the whole eastern horizon, and gleams wickedly 
through a small aperture in its exact centre, or 
does n't show at all until it has attained an alti- 
tude of forty-five degrees. The remainder of 
the day may be calm and cloudless. At times 
cirrus whips out in long streamers overhead, 
mackerel clouds stretch through an arc of 180 
degrees, and all the forms of cumulus clutter 
up the heavens. Rain falls at half a dozen places 
from vicious-looking nimbus, and rainbows ap- 
pear when there is no rain in sight. 

All these manifestations of a cloud-mad region 
we bear with equanimity, but when we see a 
monumental mass of opacity collect all the little 
clouds to itself and bear down on us, we say 
"Bayamo!" and stand by for a ram. Joe Squibb 
puts the boom in the crutch, Joe Chambers pre- 
pares to ease the battens between the lazy- jacks, 
and I take my place at the halyards — and gen- 
erally before the wind hits us we are snugged 
down with only jib and jigger spread. The 
wind comes in a fifty-mile gust, the sea rises as 

124 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

if by magic and is as miraculously beaten down 
by a deluge of rain which, mingled with spray, 
strikes us horizontally. For an hour or less we 
make the course that the wind will let us, and 
then for a watch or more we slat about in an un- 
mitigated calm. 

That 's the average bayamo, but occasionally 
one packs a wallop that is not quite so pleasant. 
Yet on the run to the Isle of Pines we were ac- 
quainted with these freaks of nature by a squall 
that was virtually windless. Rain fell and wet 
us and the sun came out and dried us and we 
did not bother to lower the mainsail, although 
what little wind there was whipped right around 
the compass and reminded us unpleasantly of 
hurricanes. This was our happiest experience 
with the tribe, except in the instances when the 
bayamos missed us altogether. 

Luck was with us in our landfall on the Isle 
of Pines. At noon I had taken a sight for lati- 
tude which I distrusted, and in the afternoon I 
had worked a St. Hilaire sight for longitude 
which met with little better favor. But from a 
10 p. m. dead reckoning position we laid a course 

125 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

which, forty miles extended, should have brought 
us up to Point Francis, on the western end of 
the Isle of Pines. 

Standing the first watch that evening I re- 
called that the captain of S. C. 190 with whom 
we hobnobbed at Key West had told me that 
the Isle of Pines is seventeen miles away from 
the position indicated on the chart. Whether it 
is seventeen miles east or west I couldn't re- 
member, but when Chambers relieved me I re- 
layed the imperfect information to him and ad- 
vised that he be particularly watchful toward the 
end of his trick. He was. Moreover, his sea- 
going intuition stood by him, for at exactly 3 :20 
he had a feeling that land was near and took a 
sounding. 

Fifteen feet of water, and ten minutes previ- 
ously we had been sailing in 1500 fathoms! 

With all hands on deck we hurriedly put about 
and then anchored in four fathoms to await the 
light of morning. When it came it revealed, 
bearing on our course, the sixty-foot skeleton 
tower by which the skipper of the 190 had told 
us to recognize Point Francis. So our luck was 

126 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

better than my navigation — which, under the cir- 
cumstances, was endurable. 

It was my intention during our two-day stop 
in Siguanea Bay, a large bight, formed partly 
by the encircling arm of Point Francis, to take 
several sights for determining the longitude of 
the point, but neither then nor in the following 
days in which we lay becalmed south of the isle 
could I get a decent sun from which to make 
my sights. So I can only advise others to be 
careful when navigating in the vicinity of the 
Isle of Pines. 

The southern side of the isle has little to at- 
tract yachtsmen, and we put in only to take the 
ground and scrub our sides with sand to cleanse 
them of the oil accumulated at Havana. A 
"town" shown as Los Indios on maps of Cuba 
and identifiable from the chart by the appella- 
tion Indian River is inhabited by a customs in- 
spector, two friends, and a small boy. Food 
cannot be bought, water is only obtainable by 
rowing three miles up the river, and gasolene is 
an unknown quantity. But we accomplished 
our purpose, slept in for two nights, and came 

127 






CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

away enriched by a basketful of limes and man- 
goes which were given Paul by an American 
living at the head of navigation on the Indian 
River. 

With our bill of health vised by the obliging 
and underworked customs inspector of Los 
Indios, and with a present of thirty gallons of 
muddy water, we set sail on July 8 for Kingston, 
Jamaica. Thanks to calms and an occasional 
head wind we were still able on the mornings 
of July ,9, 10, and 11 to see the high peaks of 
the Isle of Pines. Three days of watch-stand- 
ing, of taking what the frequent squalls had to 
give us, of rolling about for hours with mainsail 
furled and jib and jigger flapping, had netted us 
fifty miles of easting. 

The log for these days is a monotonous record, 
with the words "Mended rip in mainsail" three 
times recurring. We were getting fed up on 
bayamos, and it is not surprising that on the 
morning of July 12 we decided to alter our itin- 
erary and make our next stop Cienfuegos, which 
lies in the Gulf of Cazones, Cuba, more than four 
hundred miles short of Kingston. Besides, we 

128 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

sounded our water-tanks and took stock of our 
larder and realized that we must make harbor 
within three days or subsist on reduced rations. 

Looking back on it, the twelfth of July was 
one of unusual interest, and it seems a fitting day 
on which to conclude this chapter. In the morn- 
ing we were becalmed from seven until noon and 
during this period we had ample opportunity to 
mend a bad tear in the jib resulting from the pre- 
vious evening's bayamo. We were favorably 
situated, too, to observe the formation of the 
largest bank of clouds that had yet worried us 
with its potential cussedness. But this monstros- 
ity passed to northward in mid-afternoon with- 
out giving us any trouble. 

In the morning before taking my daily swim 
— a thing I had many times resolved not to do 
south of the latitude of Miami — I looked over 
the side and saw, swimming far below us, a medi- 
tative shark. He was on the port tack, headed 
west, and I said to myself, " Shucks, he can't 
make the grade to the surface while I 'm diving 
in and out." So I took a shallow dive off the 
stern and in five seconds had hauled myself out 

129 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

on the bumpkin and was eying the depths be- 
neath me. 

The shark was there, and he had come up from 
the depths. Given another second and he could 
have sampled man flesh. 

I called to Paul who came on deck with his 
Liiger automatic and a wad of paper with which 
to attract the shark to the surface. The shark 
rose, his dorsal cleaving the air, and Paul fired. 
It was a miss, and the shark turned nonchalantly 
on his tail and swam beneath the boat. Other 
attractions were cast over the side — cracker 
crumbs and an empty can which floated astern 
of us. The shark rose to the latter bait, and as 
it was my turn to fire I let him have Paul's 
ex-German medicine. 

I am probably the poorest pistol-shot in seven 
kingdoms, but I fired haphazard and hit the 
shark. He jumped part-way out of water and 
then dived down, down in the clear sea until he 
seemed no larger than the six-inch fish that had 
been swimming with him. He himself was a six- 
footer, not large as sharks go, but fully capable 
of inflicting damage to an arm or a leg. We 

130 



SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

thought at first that I had killed him, and we 
have always thought that sharks are cowards, 
but this one disproved both beliefs by returning 
fifteen minutes later to take up a vigilant 
sentry-go beneath our craft. There he stayed 
until the wind, rising, filled our sails, and we bore 
away to eastward. 

In the late afternoon of that day when calm 
again overtook us we were twenty miles south of 
Rosario Cay and still a matter of a hundred miles 
from Cienfuegos. We were plentifully supplied 
with gasolene and were commencing to entertain 
the idea of burning thirty or forty dollars' worth 
of the precious fluid to make port. To that end 
I had intended going over the motor a little, 
cleaning carbon from the cylinders and wiping a 
timer which I had reason to believe was too copi- 
ously lubricated. But with the procrastination 
that obsesses one when there is little to do and 
all the time in the world in which to do it, I had 
written letters instead. 

At about six o'clock, lying below, I heard one 
of the boys say "Bayamo!" The word sounds 
like a Spanish curse, and we mean it £or that 

131 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

when, the cloudbanks forming, we see a squall 
approaching. There was desultory conversation 
about the bayamo which, as both boys agreed, 
was the most ominous that had yet been sighted. 

Then I heard Joe Chambers say, "See how the 
falling rain is twisting into a spiral, and how the 
sea seems to be rising up to meet it." 

That sentence was the most electrifying that 
had ever shocked my ears, or galvanized my 
limbs into action. It didn't need Joe's subse- 
quent exclamation, "My God! It's a water- 
spout!" to send me to the top-side to get our 
bearing from it. 

Nor did I stay long on deck to watch the 
sinuous, twisting, spiral of this phenemonon bear 
down upon us. In approximately fourteen and 
an eighth seconds following the formation of the 
spout the companionway ladder had been cast 
aside, the tank valves turned on, the cylinders 
primed, and the motor started. We wanted to 
get away from there. 

Joe Squibb took the tiller and headed south 
while Al and I dashed individually to the mizzen 
and jib (the mainsail being already doused) and 

132 






SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

made the record furls of the voyage. Then, with 
deck hatches closed and Hippocampus on her 
most seaworthy footing, we had time to watch the 
trumpet and speculate on the result if it should 
overtake us. All hands agreed that we would 
be a total casualty ; and we have since heard of a 
Jamaican fishing-schooner that was lost with all 
hands when a spout sent tons of water crashing 
through its deck. 

The moments were unpleasant and they were 
made more tense by the motor, which presently 
began missing in one cylinder. I went below to 
correct the mixture and switch the current from 
one set of batteries to the other, but I saw by 
the indisputable evidence of sparks issuing from 
opened petcocks that the motor was caked with 
carbon. She had not been cleaned in five or six 
hundred miles of operation and she was taking 
this time to show us my neglect. Yet, although 
she missed now in both cylinders, she plugged 
along. Presently I learned from the boys on 
deck that we were altering the bearing of the 
spout. 

This was now a mile or so to eastward of us, 

133 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

moving slowly to the northwest and carrying 
with it the only air that was stirring. Directly 
to northward of it was a dense black cloud which 
sent shaft after shaft of forked lightning into the 
sea. To southward of the spout and of us was 
the characteristically overbearing cloud form of 
a bayamo into which we were heading as the 
lesser of two evils. Darkness was overtaking us 
with tropical swiftness, but we hoped with fer- 
vent intensity that the twilight would hold until 
the spout had broken or passed beyond us. 

Five minutes passed and it grew appreciably 
nearer. Another five and we again widened our 
bearing. Then, as the night set in, it seemed to 
merge with the thunderstorm and lose its pecu- 
liarly sinister form. Whether it fell, melted, or 
vanished into thin air we have no way of know- 
ing, but I am pleased to be able to record that 
we were not on hand at the moment of its dis- 
solution. 

After the tenseness of this escape the bayamo 
seemed like an old friend. Indeed, when we 
came within its zone of action we found that it 
was made up of bluster with but little rain 

134 






SUCH AS WATERSPOUTS 

and wind. But we looked to northward, saw the 
thunder-cloud sending its bolts of lightning into 
the sea, remaining almost stationary over the 
spot where we had been, and perhaps hiding 
within it a still active waterspout; and we 
thanked whatever gods there be that we have a 
motor in our craft. 

In the last few months I have grown cumula- 
tively fond of the sport of sailing, but I realize, 
if never before, that a marine motor is a charter 
member of the volunteer life-saving corps of 
America. 



135 



VII 

BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

HAVING by the timely use of the motor 
dodged the waterspout which threatened 
us with destruction, we three members of the 
tribe of Hippocampus — the redoubtable Joe 
Squibb, the loquacious Joe Chambers, and my 
humble self — looked hopefully for better things 
in the weather line. It had taken us twelve days 
to cover but little more than 300 miles, and we 
had experienced every variety of calm from the 
flat, motionless kind to the sort that stands you 
on your beam ends and makes you gnash your 
teeth at the useless slatting sails. 

We had had our share of squalls and rain, we 
had found the wind an adept at shifting from 
northeast to southeast, depending on whether we 
wanted to sail toward these points — and we had 
come to the conclusion that the month to cruise 
in Cuban waters is not July. 

136 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

But at the moment of avoiding the waterspout 
we thought only of putting greater distance be- 
tween us and the wicked-looking mass of clouds 
that had spawned it. To that end we shut off 
the motor and took steps to cure the missing that 
had given us palpitation of the heart while we 
were running away from the sea-monster. By 
experiment I learned that one set of dry cells 
was weak, and for these I substituted a new set ; 
by inspection I found that the timer had become 
fouled through the use of too great a quantity of 
oil. This also was replaced. At the suggestion 
of Chambers (whose words were lent greater 
weight by the parenthetical remark that the wind 
was then blowing toward us from the cloud 
bank) I squirted kerosene into the carbureter 
with the motor running and partially cleansed the 
cylinders of carbon. By these means and by the 
use of sanctimonious words judiciously misap- 
applied, we were presently under way to the tune 
of a rhythmic exhaust. 

The storm center, still sending its lightnings 
into the sea, receded into the distance as we 
motored east, and in time the moon emerged and 

137 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

lighted us on our way. For two hours we con- 
tinued under power, and then, a gentle south- 
easterly springing up, we shut off the motor and 
made the best course we could in the direction of 
East Guano Cay, whose lighthouse is the first 
aid, coming from the westward, to the approach 
of the city of Cienfuegos. 

Luck attended our landfall of this light. Up 
to six o'clock in the evening of July 12 we had 
logged only thirty miles in twenty-four hours, 
and I had let the entire period of daylight go 
by without a shot at the sun. "What is the use," 
I thought, "of finding that we have n't moved ap- 
preciably since yesterday? Better to hope that 
the current has eased us on our way." 

Hence, when I went off watch at midnight my 
idea of our position was vague. But I diligently 
stepped off our various courses on the chart — 
nineteen miles south-southeast, seven north- 
northeast, three south under power, ten east 
under power, and finally nine north-northeast 
under sail again — and assumed an absolutely un- 
justified dead reckoning position. It placed us 

138 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

twenty miles south of Jack Taylor Reef and 
thirty-five southwest of East Guano Cay. 

I was on the point of imparting this misin- 
formation to Chambers, who had relieved me on 
deck, when he sang out "Light-O." Al has the 
eyes of an eagle, despite the fact that he was 
nearly ejected from the navy because of de- 
ficient sight, and we expect him to make all our 
landfalls. This was the happiest one he has ever 
made, for a hurried observation of the light's 
bearing informed me that we were only two miles 
from Jack Taylor Reef and plowing directly 
for it. Not the light itself, but only its flash 
against the clouds w r as visible, and had we come 
up another mile to westward we should probably 
have terminated the cruise among the sharks of 
the reef. 

This experience has taught me one thing — 
never to let pass an opportunity for fixing our 
position by celestial observation, no matter how 
far off shore we are or how close to an unre- 
markable coast. Luck does n't always break for 
the small-boat sailor, and the currents, working 

139 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

silently and unobtrusively, may set him on the 
rocks before he knows it. 

The wind had now shifted to the east, and we 
tacked about and headed away from the reef. 
Daylight found us still beating toward the 
Orient, the lighthouse then plainly visible; but 
a total of twelve hours slipped by before we had 
made good twenty miles and saw ourselves in a 
position to round the light and shape a course for 
Cienfuegos. Then we ran for it, taking the wind 
from slightly abaft the beam and with every 
stitch of canvas straining. It was our first ex- 
perience with the full strength of the trade wind 
in the Carribean, and although we kept all sai 
spread we watched the seams carefully and were 
prepared to lower on the first indication of fail- 
ure. But, barring a slight ripping along the 
seams of the mainsail where, in years past, the 
backstay had been allowed to chafe the canvas, 
everything held and we made knots. 

Banging across the shoal that extends east- 
ward from East Guano, and attended by some 
friendly gulls which took turns flying overhead 
to peck at our main and mizzen trucks, we en- 

140 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

joyed for two hours the sensation of having ex- 
actly the right amount of wind while sailing on 
a bee-line for our destination. But presently the 
waves broke no more against our weather side, 
nor immersed the bowsprit, nor washed the lee 
deck from main shrouds to mizzen. We righted 
to a more even keel and prepared with resigna- 
tion to meet the afternoon's calm. It came, 
ushered in by an arched squall, which sent us to 
the main halyards in a hurry. 

"Poor," said the skipper, when the mainsail 
was furled and its boom rested in the crutch. 
"If we can't do better than that we '11 be out of 
luck when a real squall strikes us." 

"All right," said the exec. "Let 's run her up 
again for practice." He spoke ironically. 

"Shoot," said the first luff, rubbing the pelting 
rain-drops from his eyes; and in another thirty 
seconds the mainsail was again spread to the 
squall. 

"Now down with it," said the skipper when 
the halyards were in order; "and don't let us 
shame ourselves before that spic fisherman." 

Down she came, with creditable precision, and 

141 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

up again the gaff traveled to the throat pendant 
as the squall passed by and the wind slacked off. 
But calm immediately overtook us and we low- 
ered away once more. 

"If we razzle-dazzle the sail up and down half 
a dozen times for every squall," drawled Squibb, 
as we went below to look for books and writing 
material, "we '11 be sailing under bare poles in 
about a week. Take the advice of an old sea- 
dog and put a reef or two in the mainsail." 

The ensuing night was one of the most un- 
comfortable we have ever spent, for we took a 
cross chop from the heavy sea thrown against an 
almost perpendicular coast. Spray came over 
in barrelfuls and twice Chambers was thrown 
bodily from his bunk to the cabin deck. Try 
as we would we seemed to get no nearer to Color- 
ados Point Light which marks the entrance to 
Cienfuegos Bay, for the wind shifted to frustrate 
every tack. Finally, at daylight, we doused all 
sail, started the motor, and put an end to tack- 
ing fruitlessly about. 

Squibb, whom I relieved at four, helped me 
with these duties, and then stayed on deck, one 

142 






BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

arm clinched around the mainmast, to watch the 
miracle of sunrise. He, more than any other man 
I ever knew, takes supreme delight in nature's 
beauties, and in the latter days of this cruise he 
has gone without sleep for hours on end to absorb 
the charm of the West Indian islands. This, 
our landfall at Cienfuegos, was more than usu- 
ally appealing, for the sun arose tardily behind 
the lofty mountains of the Trinidad range, send- 
ing before it streaks of crimson and flashes of 
silver that illumined wind-torn cirrus or brought 
into sudden roseate prominence some upstanding 
mountain of cumulus. Near us the sea broke 
savagely on an outlying reef, but between the 
capes guarding the entrance to Cienfuegos Bay 
we caught a glimpse of the peace and security 
that was to be ours after six days at sea. 

Under power we passed by Colorados Point, 
and then, finding a favorable slant of wind, set 
all sail. At the moment of passing the station 
pilot-ship we broke our ensign to the breeze, and 
from the corners of our eyes, watched the antics 
aboard that craft. With the energy character- 
istic of a certain element of humanity when an 

143 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

American dollar is seen to be slipping away, the 
pilots hallooed and waved and jumped in the air. 
We could not understand the words and feigned 
blindness as well as deafness, but I could imagine 
some such monologue as this issuing from every 
pilot's throat : 

"Carramba! An American yacht entering 
the bay without a pilot ! Stingy New York mil- 
lionaires unwilling to pay us what is due us. 
May bad luck overtake them and the nearest reef 
wreck them." 

But we entered the broad and beautiful bay 
without mishap and by seven o'clock were 
anchored off the city ready to receive customs 
and quarantine inspectors. They came out in 
small motor-boats, courteously put us through 
the f ormalties, and by nine we were on dry land 
voraciously surrounding eggs and coffee. 

We had intended remaining at the City of a 
Hundred Fires only long enough to take on food 
and water and to obtain a full night's sleep, but 
we had not reckoned on the delightful hospitality 
of T. W. Bibb, clerk of the American consulate. 
When Chambers met him and Mrs. Bibb at the 

144 







Taking 'em over the bow, but undaunted, the yawl bucked the 
Northeast Trade of the Caribbean 




The lee rail awash, every stitch of sail drawing, and cruising 
life at the acme of enjoyment 



One minute Chambers and Loomis trolled from a line astern, 
attractive bait for marauding sharks — 




And the next the surface of the water was cut by dorsal fins. 
But they were purposeless porpoises 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

consulate, and they learned that we were the 
crew of the diminutive Hippocampus, nothing 
but Al's promise to stay another day and partake 
of regular American cooking would satisfy them. 
First of all, however, we must agree to accom- 
pany the Bibbs to the Cienfuegos Yacht Club 
and swim with them in the shark-proof enclos- 
ure. 

Al, returning aboard, found all hands as en- 
thusiastic as himself, and on the following morn- 
ing we arose at six — something of a wrench the 
second day in port — picked up our hosts at a 
wharf, and stood down the bay to the yacht club. 
A bay as magnificent as that of Cienfuegos if 
situated anywhere along the American coast 
would be literally dotted with sail and motor 
craft. Located in Cuba as it is, enjoyment of 
aquatic sport is hampered by the high cost of 
boats and gasolene; but it speaks well for the 
energy and sportsmanship of the Cienfuegans 
that they have a yacht club as fine as that of 
Havana. There are many high-speed motor- 
boats in the bay, and the art of rowing is prac- 
tised, although, according to the explosive Con- 

145 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

stant Titus, American rowing coach of the club, 
not yet perfected. 

For an hour or so we swam in the shark-proof 
stockade — a most necessary feature of a bathing 
beach in these waters — and then breakfasted 
aboard, Mrs. Bibb presiding in the galley. 
Never was a day more auspiciously begun, and, 
since leaving the States at least, never more satis- 
factorily ended, for that evening we dined at the 
Bibbs' picturesque villa in the suburbs of Cien- 
fuegos and knew again the delights of home 
society and cooking. 

Come to think of it, the day was pretty satis- 
factory altogether, for we met various officials of 
the Ward Line who manifested a lively interest in 
our craft and showed us how to purchase stores 
at the lowest figure; and with one of them, 
Octavio Echemendia, we lunched at the Union 
Hotel. By him we were introduced to his uncle, 
the mayor. Alvero Suera, mayor of Cienfuegos, 
with whom we had a private audience at his home, 
is an energetic, upright public servant of the 
type that is conspicuously lacking in Cuban poli- 
tics. If there were more like him in insular 

146 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

affairs there would be greater prosperity in 
Cuba and less cause for apprehension in Wash- 
ington. 

In mid-afternoon of the day following, being 
provided with copies of the local newspaper 
which spoke of our reception by the mayor and 
in extravagant Spanish extolled the "heroism" of 
Hippocampus' s crew, the able little yawl re- 
sumed her travels. Under sail she stood down 
the bay until she had brought us to the narrows, 
where, in the shadow of Jagua Castle, built gen- 
erations ago as a defense against the Jamaican 
buccaneers, she let go anchor. 

We rowed ashore in the waning daylight to 
inspect the disused castle, returned to shift an- 
chorage for the night, and then, at 10:30, sud- 
denly determined to get under way and take ad- 
vantage of a northerly slant of air. Drifting 
lazily down the narrows, our canvas just filling, 
we showed our heels to a native fishing-schooner 
and felt again the heave of the open sea. Then, 
rounding Colorados Point, we laid a course for 
Cape Cruz and resumed the regular watch order. 

I went on shortly after midnight to find the 

147 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

descending moon picking out the peaks of the 
Trinidad range and to revel in the novelty of a 
fair wind and a smooth sea. But in twenty 
minutes conditions had changed and we were 
bucking close-hauled into a rapidly rising chop. 
The wind had come down from the mountains, 
unheralded by clouds, and in another hour it was 
blowing with the full vigor of the trade. 
Though we buried our nose deep in the sea and 
had to luff occasionally to spill the air from the 
the sails, we held on, and by eight of the morn- 
ing watch had put fifty miles between us and 
our point of departure. This, for the Hippo- 
campus, was traveling. 

At Cienfuegos we had been told that the at- 
mosphere gave every promise of an approaching 
hurricane, early in the season as it was ; but since 
leaving that city we had been aware of a 
change in conditions. The clouds were more 
orthodox, the sunsets better, the calms fewer, and 
the direction of the wind more constant. As to 
its strength, there was no kick coming. 

We took the precaution on the first afternoon 
out from port of putting a reef in the sail — the 

148 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

first since leaving home — and the watch below 
slept more peacefully as a result. But in mid- 
morning of the next day when the trade really 
began to blow we doused the mainsail altogether 
and until late afternoon proceeded easily under 
jib, jigger, and a tri-sail improvised from our 
storm jib. That evening, during a period of 
calm which was not duplicated on the remainder 
of the run, we double-reefed ; and yet logged six 
knots in the early morning hours. In the fore- 
noon, having a more moderate breeze, we shook 
out first one reef and then the other, but we have 
not since started a night without reefing down. 

Midway of this voyage we again changed our 
plans and decided against proceeding direct to 
Kingston. Although we were adding greatly 
to our mileage with each passing hour, our dis- 
tance was not by any means made good, and 
it was not until daylight of the morning of the 
fourth day that Al sighted and brought abeam 
Cape Cruz Light, 200 miles from Cienfuegos. 
So we decided to make Port Antonio, Jamaica, 
our next objective. 

Late that afternoon, when we sighted the 

149 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

precipitous island and knew ourselves to be 
within the influence of a contrary current, a 
breeze came like a gift from the gods, and blew 
us due east for four hours. Then, as it shifted 
to eastward, we changed our course to S. S. E., 
hoping against hope that when we again sighted 
Jamaica we would be within striking distance of 
Port Antonio. But — at first we refused to 
credit it — we made our morning landfall on 
Point Galina, thirty-five miles to westward. 

Hitherto I have not dwelt greatly on the 
difficulties of small-boat navigation or done more 
than intimate that dead reckoning positions are 
often rendered unscientific by the element of 
hope. But the time has come to be specific, to 
include the working of a sight for navigational 
sharks to pick to pieces. 

But first let me give a picture of navigating 
the Hippocampus as it is done, say, on the morn- 
ing of sighting Galina Point. We are sailing 
close to the wind on the port tack, under reefed 
mainsail, a heavy sea rolling and the spray flying 
so incessantly that the main cabin hatch is kept 
partly closed. I inform the helmsman, who 

150 



i 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

happens to be Joe Squibb, that I am about to 
take a sight and hand him paper, pencil, and 
watch. This timepiece is not of great value 
and I have no hesitancy about stopping it, 
finger on the second-hand, to make it conform 
exactly with chronometer time. This, a lazy 
man's trick, eliminates "C-W" from my calcula- 
tions and so reduces the chances of error. After 
taking my sights I again compare the watch with 
the chronometer. 

Gingerly taking up the handsome sextant that 
was given me at the outset of the cruise, I call to 
Joe that I am ready and he changes course to 
run partly with the wind and keep the spray 
down. Then I crawl to the cabin-house on one 
hand and my knees and, standing upright, brace 
myself against the mast. The little ship tosses 
so violently that it takes minutes to bring the 
sun down to the horizon, but at length the trick is 
done and I call "Mark" to the helmsman. He 
records the time and I read him the angle. Two 
other sights are marked, preferably at equal in- 
tervals of time, and then, crawling back to the 
companionway, I descend, pausing in its com- 

151 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

parative security to ascertain the index error of 
the sextant. 

The three sights are compared and if the al- 
teration of the sun's angle is logical — so many- 
seconds of arc for seconds of time — I proceed 
to work the one which seemed at the moment of 
taking to be the most accurate. They are never 
averaged, and if the progression does not seem 
logical they are discarded and new sights are 
taken. The patent log is read, and from that 
and a glance at the courses and distance made 
since the last fix, a D.R. position is assumed. 

This D.R. position, as every one knows who is 
familiar with the St. Hilaire system of naviga- 
tion, does not have to be accurate. A navigator, 
turned loose in the middle of the ocean, not know- 
ing his position within a thousand miles, could, 
by using the St. Hilaire method, determine his 
exact fix in two sights. 

On the morning in question, being about ten 
miles offshore, I assumed that we were in Lat. 
18° 25' N., Long. 76° 36' W., one mile to east- 
ward of a straight line drawn between Cape Cruz 
and Port Antonio. Our good easterly run on 

152 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

the night previous I had balanced against leeway 
and head current, but the fix showed that we 
actually were twenty-five miles W. N. W. of our 
course. The discrepancy must be ascribed to the 
difficulty of holding a small boat on her course, 
to sailing close into a wind that veers impercep- 
tibly to one's disadvantage, and to the human 
equation — which includes poor D.R. judgment. 
Here is the sight exactly as it was worked, with 
short cuts, mental interpolations of fractional 
parts, abbreviations, and all its crudities. 

July 21, '21. A. M. Sight 

CT 1-36-03 Obs. alt. Q 42-29-30 North of Jamaica 

CC+ 16-34 IC- 4f Pos. by D.R. 

Corr.+ 12-15 Lat. 18° 25' N. 

GMT 1-52-3T h 42-41-05 Long. 76° 36' W. 

Eq T- 6-10 6 H.E. 8 ft. 

Dec. 20-31-27 N. 

GAT 1-46-26.4 
LoW -5-06-24 



LAT 20-40-02.4 

t 3-19-57.6 log hav 9.25173 

L 18-25 ' " cos 9.97717 

d 20-31-27 " " 9.97152 



" hav 9.20042 8:30 A. m. 

nat * l .15865 Z 78° 30'. 

d-L 2-06-27 " " .00034 Line runs 168° 30'. 

P.l.r. 261^. 

z 46-59-52 ' < ' * .15899 Brandis Sextant 



Cal. h 43-00-08 

153 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

Obs.h 42-41-05 



Int 19-03-away 

FIX 



f Lat. 18° S6' N. 



' \ Long. 76° 59' W. 

This, as will be recognized, is a sight worked 
according to the cosine-haversine formula of the 
St. Hilaire method. Two sights taken at differ- 
ent times, or at the same time of different 
celestial objects, are necessary for obtaining a 
fix, but in this instance our latitude was known 
by our distance from shore, and the single Sum- 
ner line located our position. 

In the accompanying detail of a chart of 
Jamaica it is interesting to note that the nineteen- 
mile intercept, or altitude-difference, when car- 
ried away from the sun on the true azimuth 
seventy-eight and one half degrees, cuts dry 
land. However, the perpendicular to the azi- 
muth, or the Sumner line, somewhere along 
jwhich the ship was positioned at the moment of 
taking the sight, extends into deep water. 

During the succeeding hours of beating 
against a boisterous trade wind whose accom- 
panying billows almost lost us to sight between 
crests we had only the minor satisfaction of not- 

154 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

ing that as we approached the shore on the port 
tack the wind hauled to northward and permitted 
us to skirt the beach at a slowly converging 
angle. As we beat outward on the starboard 




The chart work by which we fixed our position in approaching 
Jamaica — an illustration for the accompanying St. Hilaire sight. 
The intercept of 19 miles, extended along the sun's azimuth at the 
moment of taking the sight, cuts dry land, but the perpendicular 
Sumner line, in conjunction with our calculated distance from the 
shore, gives us our fix 

tack the wind veered correspondingly to south- 
ward* thus permitting us to make easting on each 

155 






CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

tack. Yet, so tedious is the process of beating 
into a wind almost directly, contrary to the de- 
sired course, it took us until daylight of the next 
morning to come abreast of Port Antonio Light, 
thirty-five miles eastward of Galina Point. 

Then, bowling in with the wind more than a 
little abaft the beam, we observed a curious trick 
of the air currents. One instant we were sailing 
free and the next we had encountered a land 
breeze that took our sails aback. There being 
none of the customary interval between shifts 
in which the air is stagnant, it seemed as if the 
wind were suddenly determined to keep us at 
sea. But we have a trump card that takes all 
tricks, and it was n't long before we were motor- 
ing in, sails furled. 

Port Antonio, dominated by Blue Mountain 
Peak which rises 7400 feet into the air, and en- 
circled by incredible hills that seem to be out of 
drawing in both their steepness and contour, was 
a sight at sunrise even more gracious than Cien- 
fuegos. Joe Squibb again kept the deck with 
me, reveling in the beauty of the tropical foliage 
and the absolute perfection of the land-locked 

156 



BEATING UP TO WINDWARD 

harbor, his occasional word of appreciation soon 
seconded by Joe Chambers, who came on deck 
in time to help us select our anchorage. 

Before the hour of six, C. H. Vidal-Hall, port 
collector, rowed out to inspect our papers and 
welcome us to Jamaica, and before the sun was 
very high we had been visited by half the whites 
and all the blacks in the vicinity of the port. Of 
the latter, one who was more than usually gifted 
in the choice of words presented us with a dozen 
grapefruit and we were relieved that, despite the 
difference in color, we were able to thank him in 
a common language. 

Over and above the natural attractions of 
Jamaica, it has an advantage that is almost im- 
measurable: its inhabitants all understand the 
English language. Having long since de- 
spaired of making of myself a linguist, I placed 
my faith in Joe Squibb while we were in Cuba, 
and hoped through him to obtain the simple ne- 
cessities of cruising life. But since an experi- 
ence that he had in Cienfuegos I have decided 
that we are all better off in English-speaking 
countries. 

157 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

He entered a store, dictionary in hand, and 
paused in the doorway to learn that the Spanish 
equivalent of eggs is huevos. This word and no 
other he uttered, slowly and distinctly to the 
Cuban storekeeper, and that worthy, assuming a 
blank expression, replied, "I no spik English.' 

Of course, after Joe had described in the sign 
language what an egg is and how it is eaten 
fried, he was successful in securing the material 
for our breakfast, but I have not had the same 
faith in him since. Better for us to fatten up 
for a time on the grapefruit, bananas, and 
other staples which the kindly Jamaicans have 
given us. 



158 



VIII 

DIVEES EXPERIENCES 

MORE than one of the numerous relatives 
of the crew of the Hippocampus have 
written on receipt of a cable message: "So glad 
to know for the day at least that you are safe in 
port. Your cable gives me a feeling of security 
that I don't have when I know you are at sea." 

We never argue the point, but if any of us 
were so minded he could write a most harrowing 
epistle on the danger of being safe in port. Be- 
fore ever we put to sea we smashed our mizzen- 
boom against a dock in Gravesend Bay, and 
then nearly duplicated the experience in Nor- 
folk, being still unaccustomed to the amount of 
sternway that a heavily built yawl, reversing un- 
der power, will carry. One night in Charleston 
we parted a very necessary stern-line and only 
missed crashing because I happened to be ex- 
amining the line when it gave way. In May- 

159 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

port, Florida, we had our greatest disaster of all, 
when an avalanche of rocks descended upon us, 
and in Cienfuegos, Cuba, chancing to anchor in 
three fathoms on the very edge of a six-fathom 
hole, we averted dragging into danger by our ha- 
bitual good luck. And here in Kingston, Ja- 
maica, as will presently be related, we have had 
our troubles. 

But at Port Antonio, where we arrived on the 
morning of July 22, we actually were in perfect 
security. The harbor, a delight to the eye, is 
landlocked, and the trade wind, being stopped 
by Blue Mountain, does no more than carry 
showers of rain to streak fresh paint. So for 
three days we enjoyed untroubled minds and 
feared nothing. Not that we ever fear anything : 
to hear us talk to the swarms of visitors who 
came aboard while we were bending on our new 
suit of sails, one would have thought us the most 
insouciant and intrepid of mariners. We^were 
cruising the tropics in the hurricane season; but 
what of it? 

So we talked and puttied, and boasted and 
varnished, and danced ashore and ate the fruits 

160 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

that were given us until the time came to move 
on for Kingston, the Hippocampus rather re- 
splendent in her new clothes and brightened 
woodwork. Another hour in port, I think, and 
one more boast, would have brought us retribu- 
tion. Even leaving at the psychological mo- 
ment which is familiarly known as the nick 
of time, we so narrowly missed a humili- 
ating smash-up that I still shudder to think 
of it. 

The excitement came at the close of a hard day 
in which we had bent on the mainsail, rove a new 
throat halyard from native line, and made all the 
last-minute preparations for departure. We had 
bade good-by to our new-found friends and 
promised to hail them once more as we rounded 
Titchfield Peninsula, which restricts the en- 
trance to Port Antonio and makes the western 
harbor the ideal anchorage that it is; and we 
were standing seaward in the lightest of airs, 
moving like a ghost through the placid dusk of 
late evening. It is little smooth-water sailing 
that we have enjoyed on this cruise, and when we 
do get an opportunity to test Hippo's lightness 

161 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

of foot we sacrifice time to take every possible 
advantage of it. 

So, drifting lazily with all sail set, we sighted 
the gleaming coal of a cigar on the near-by shore 
and called a last farewell. The ruby light dis- 
appeared and a calm voice, floating across the 
water, observed: "You have a motor. Why 
not start it?" Simultaneously Al Chambers, 
sitting serenely in the cockpit, tiller in hand, ex- 
perienced that helpless sensation which comes 
when steerageway is lost, and seconded the sug- 
gestion. I dropped into the cabin and awoke 
the little Palmer to life, but, being still enthralled 
by the magic of the quiet night, I throttled it 
down to its slowest and climbed once more to my 
perch on the cabin-house. 

Peace for another moment and then Al's ex- 
cited exclamation, "Gosh! [or a word to that 
effect] we 're being set stern first toward the 
rocks." 

"Give her a little more gas," I said; "there 's 
a current here that 's probably carrying us 
down." 

For an instant I was as unperturbed as I was 

162 






CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

unaware of what had happened. But when I 
saw the shore of Navy Island looming more 
distinctly astern of us I apprehended that the 
motor had reversed itself, and lost no time in 
gaining the cockpit and shifting the gear lever 
from the go-ahead to the go-astern position, 
thus reversing again the rotation of the propel- 
ler. Paul, who had been admiring the beauty 
of the night from the bow, had the presence of 
mind not to let go the anchor, and when we 
were almost in scraping distance of the rocks, 
the yawl overcame her sternway and headed 
slowly into the channel. 

While this episode did not threaten us with 
physical danger it came within an ace of doing 
mortal injury to our pride. To have a docile, 
well-trained motor stop and start itself in the 
reverse motion, carrying one unwittingly toward 
a reef less than an hour after he has lightly pooh- 
poohed the dangers of the deep is more than the 
average mortal can endure, and I for one was 
glad when we had put the scene of our misad- 
venture far behind and were out in the broad 
open spaces. 

163 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

Once clear of the land we shut off the motor 
— which, previously, had been stopped and re- 
started in the right direction — and whistled for 
the wind. For two hours it came in strength 
barely sufficient to hold us against the westerly 
current, but then it fanned itself into a sailing 
breeze, and by midnight we were slipping along 
under a single reef. The wind was against us, 
of course, for we were still working to the east- 
ward, but as in a previous instance it had the 
kindness to veer slightly as we neared the land, 
permitting a longer reach on the onshore tack. 

It was our plan to make what easting we 
could under sail, using the motor if necessary 
to round the eastern end of Jamaica at nine 
o'clock, or before the trade wind had attained 
its morning strength; and to that end we made 
a long beat to the northeast until we could smell 
Navassa Island, seventy miles up the wind. 
Navassa, the historic home of millions of sea 
birds, is a lighted landmark sought by all navi- 
gators using the Windward Passage between 
Hayti and Cuba, and it is one of the few strate- 

164 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

gic points in the Caribbean Sea which betray 
their presence to the olfactory nerves. 

At 3:15 of the mid- watch we were several 
miles offshore and abreast a cape known as 
Northeast End, from which the land falls away 
sharply to the southeast until it terminates at 
Morant Point; and there we came about, hop- 
ing rather hopelessly to round the point with- 
out further tacking. Toward daylight as we 
drew uncomfortably near the land the wind 
obligingly shifted a little to the north ; and Cham- 
bers, who had the watch, was able to hold his 
offing by periodically luffing her. So, when the 
watch below came on deck at eight o'clock, 
clamoring for breakfast, we were agreeably sur- 
prised to see Morant Point Light and the land's 
end a point or two forward of the beam. 

The first appearance on deck of a morning 
is generally an occasion of some repressed 
grumpiness mitigated by a keen interest in our 
surroundings and the things which concern the 
boat's sailing. A glance around and aloft to 
determine the present and future condition of 

165 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

the sea; a question of the helmsman concerning 
the course and log reading; a cigarette rolled in 
the lee of the dinghy and smoked with deep 
inhalations; a perfunctory application of fresh 
water to the face and teeth: all these things are 
necessary before we feel ourselves to be the equal 
of the one of us who has watched while we have 
slept. His inevitable superiority is the more 
keenly felt when, as on this morning, we look 
over the side and see the jagged bottom a few 
fathoms beneath us. 

Yes, he 's known about it all the time ; has 
taken soundings, consulted the chart, and de- 
cided that we can hold the course without les- 
sening the depth. And so we can, but at the 
expense of our aplomb. 

At 8:45 Morant Point Light bore abeam; and 
twenty minutes later, the wind freshening at the 
scheduled time, we had cleared the eastern ex- 
tremity of Jamaica and were heading south and 
west. This was an event which, had we been 
provided with Jamaica rum, would have been 
duly celebrated, for, contrary to precedent and 
our doleful expectations, we had rounded the 

166 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

point without resorting to the motor. More- 
over, we were now sailing with free sheets for 
almost the first time in three weeks. One has 
to head into wind and sea for this period of time, 
being constantly wet with spray, sleeping on 
damp blankets, and navigating under excep- 
tional difficulties, to appreciate fully the exhilar- 
ation that we felt as we brought the wind behind 
us and squared away for Kingston. 

For the better part of the morning I lay below 
luxuriating in the long lumbering rush which is 
a characteristic of the Hippo when she is running 
free, enjoying the novelty of an even keel, and 
idly watching the spatter of drops whipped up 
from the sea by the main-sheet to fall in irides- 
cent sparkles through the open hatch. When in 
time it became my turn to take the deck I sam- 
pled another sensation; that of running before 
a forty-mile squall that overtook us with envel- 
oping blackness. 

Hitherto we have played extremely safe with 
squalls of wind, for the sails we wore were paper- 
thin from years of usage and we had no desire 
to see them whipping into shreds when most we 

167 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

needed canvas. But now, under our new suit of 
ten-ounce duck, cut up and down and rather 
short for just such emergencies, I felt minded 
to experiment, and when the wind with its ac- 
companying torrent of rain overtook us, I held 
her on her course. It was n't five minutes, how- 
ever, before the rain had dampened my ardor 
and it was all hands to the sheets to flatten her 
against the wind. Then the squall passed on, 
spending its fury against the mountainous shore 
of Jamaica, and we sailed once more with the 
wind one point on the port quarter and my eye 
glued to the telltale flying from the main-truck. 
This is a dangerous point of sailing, as any one 
who has jibed in a seaway will attest, and it is a 
careless seaman who will watch only the compass 
card. 

Toward mid-afternoon another squall assailed 
us, and this was of sufficient strength to make 
lowering the mainsail not only advisable but 
necessary. Many salty amateur mariners have 
told me that they like best to sail when the lee 
rail is six inches under water, but they are cut 
from tougher canvas than we of the Hippo- 

168 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS i 

campus. We can stand an inch or two of salt 
water on the lee deck, but when Paul's Bible and 
my Bowditch go waltzing together from cabin 
book-shelf to the bunk opposite we have an in- 
definable yearning that is satisfied only when 
something has been lowered. This time the new 
throat halyard, rove in at Port Antonio, and 
swelled by the first shower, proved refractory, 
and it took the combined strength of Al and me, 
hauling on the luff, to reeve it through the 
blocks. But no damage was done beyond a 
ruffling of our tempers, and now the throat hal- 
yard does duty as a main-sheet and we have re- 
placed it with a new line of finer stuff. 

Twilight, when we wore in past Port Royal 
at the entrance to Kingston Harbor, saw us 
at the conclusion of the best day's run that we 
have made since leaving Key West. We had 
logged eighty-five miles in less than twenty-four 
hours, running for half the time against the 
wind, and we were full of satisfaction and ac- 
complishment. The sea toward evening had as- 
sumed such proportions that we could look back 
a hundred feet and up to the log rotator spin- 

169 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

ning madly on the crest above us, but we were 
taking it easily and without danger of being 
pooped. Early in the cruise I asked Al if he 
thought it advisable to take a leaf from the note- 
book of another long-distance cruiser and batten 
the cabin doors against any comber that might 
ramble aboard over our stern. Now that I have 
observed the little yawl under varying conditions 
of wind and sea I believe that his answer to 
my suggestfon, inclusive as it may seem, is yet 
the best one: "If it ever gets that rough I don't 
want to be aboard." 

Flying alphabet flag N from our starboard 
spreader to apprise the authorities at Port Royal 
that we had already been admitted to pratique 
(passed quarantine, that is), we stood in by the 
remnant of the city that in the days of Sir Henry 
Morgan was termed the wickedest on earth. 
Two and a half centuries ago — had the Hippo- 
campus then existed — we would here have parted 
company with all our gold plate and pieces of 
eight, but now the pirates no less than their 
stronghold lie buried beneath the sea, victims of 
an avenging earthquake, and we did not pay 

170 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

them even the courtesy of listening for the 
mythical submerged church-bell that tolls their 
requiem. We were more practically occupied 
in following the lighted aids up the broad harbor 
to Kingston. 

The wind left us when we were within a few 
cable-lengths of our desired anchorage off the 
Royal Jamaica Yacht Club, and so at ten o'clock 
we ended the run as we had begun it, under 
power. It was the blackness of the night more 
than the stirring of a guilty conscience that led 
us to anchor off the state penitentiary, but there, 
when daylight came, we found ourselves, the 
objects of many longing glances from the trust- 
ies working in the prison yard. 

We awoke to find the water glassy smooth. 
What more natural than to assume that the 
hook we always use and the scope we always 
give would hold us while we trooped ashore to 
get our mail? At any rate, we did assume it, 
and nine o'clock saw us rowing blithely down 
the bay to the boat-landing of the Myrtle Bank 
Hotel, which is famed, I may add irrelevantly, 
for its rum punches. 

171 






DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

Ashore, there were calls to be made; on the 
British port collector, who would n't accept my 
word that Hippocampus is a yacht, entitled to 
yacht privileges, and had to be pacified with a 
letter from the delightful and hospitable Ameri- 
can consul, C. L. Latham ; on the consul himself, 
and on the secretary of the tourists' association, 
who was anxious that we view Jamaica through 
friendly eyes. And while these calls were being 
made the "sea breeze," as the landlubbers call 
the southeast trade, was sweeping up the streets 
of Kingston, blowing dust impartially into the 
eyes of the just and the unjust. Along toward 
noon I called up the yacht club to ask the care- 
taker whether he could see the Hippocampus 
and whether she was standing the gaff. 

"She 's all right now," he replied, and the 
qualifying adverb of time so disquieted me that I 
asked the two Joes to return aboard while I 
paid another call ashore. They, as I learned 
when I joined them on the tossing, quivering 
Hippo, received at the Myrtle Rank a belated 
message to return immediately to the ship, and, 
determining in one glance that they could not 

172 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

row the dinghy up wind to our anchorage, piled 
into a hack and hurried to the yacht club. They 
were greeted there by Harry and Arthur 
O 'Toole, sons of the superintendent of prisons, 
who rowed them to the yawl, and related the 
danger that our careless seamanship had exposed 
her to. 

Hardly had we left the boat in the morning 
when the trade wind sprang up, and in a short 
time the Hippocampus was lugubriously drag- 
ging anchor toward the sea-wall. The O'Toole 
boys, accustomed to the strength and persistence 
of the wind, lost no time in gathering together 
a crew of prisoners and putting out in a motor- 
launch. For a moment they moored the yawl 
to a schooner under whose bows she drifted by 
the scantest margin of safety, but then, fearing 
that the weight of the two boats would drag the 
schooner's anchor, they hauled in our own, towed 
us farther out from shore, and moored us with 
our heavy hook and with another requisitioned 
from the prison launch. It sounds simple in the 
telling, but, feeling the force of the wind against 
my cheek and seeing the viciousness of the waves 

173 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

breaking against the masonry wall, I knew that 
the O'Toole boys had saved the Hippocampus 
from an untimely end. 

The chapter of our day's troubles was not yet 
written, as Al and I learned when we went 
in the calm of late evening to the Myrtle Bank 
landing to pick up our tender and row it home. 
The painter was where we had left it, but the 
dink was gone. Naturally enough, Hippocam- 
pus Minor (as a surgical friend has dubbed the 
dink) had followed the example of Hippocam- 
pus Major and started on a cruise of its own. 

Being now somewhat accustomed to the vein 
of good luck that streaks all our misfortunes, we 
were not in the least surprised to find that the 
first boat we hailed in the darkness belonged to 
the water-front police, who took us aboard and 
in less than five minutes of haphazard searching 
rowed us to the spot where, high and dry, some 
kind Samaritan had beached the dink. Thank- 
ing the police and crossing their colored palms 
wi' siller, we took possession of the truant and 
returned aboard. 

174 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

Perhaps the northern reader, the navigator of 
civilized bodies of water like Long Island Sound 
and Buzzards Bay, will care to know something 
of Kingston Harbor and of the trade wind that 
makes it ideal for sailing and vile for anchoring. 
The bay, lying east and west, is about eight miles 
long and two miles wide, and is shaped somewhat 
like a race-track that has been distorted by an 
earthquake. Having at its southwest side a 
deep, narrow opening, it is otherwise separated 
from the sea by a long arm of sand known as the 
Palisados, where in years past grew a palisade of 
palm-trees. Now the Palisados is bare and in- 
terposes no barrier against the wind which sweeps 
in from seaward. Port Royal occupies the ex- 
tremity of this spit. 

Kingston's water-front is about midway of the 
bay, on the mainland, and the Royal Jamaica 
Yacht Club, where the local sailing craft assem- 
ble, is approximately a mile to eastward of the 
city, and three and a half miles from the upper 
end of the Palisados. Before the last hurricane 
a partly submerged hulk formed a breakwater 

175 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

for the club anchorage, but that slipped into deep 
water under the buffeting of wind and wave, and 
now there is no shelter. 

The morning after the dragging of the Hippo- 
campus we were all on deck, basking in the still- 
ness of the bay and air, and talking with the 
OToole boys, who had swum out bearing gifts 
of pineapples and cocoanuts. Little Guineth 
was there, too, a twelve-year-old mermaid whose 
last name I forget, who during our stay in Kings- 
ton has visited us daily and delighted us with the 
imperious manner in which she rules her court 
of adolescent mermen. Suddenly Harry ex- 
claimed, "Here comes the Doctor," and pointed 
seaward. Expecting a visit from the quarantine 
officials, we paralleled his glance and saw in- 
stead a slight riffling^ of the bay's surface. 
"The trade wind," added Arthur. "It comes 
every morning between nine and ten and blows 
like the jooce." 

We watched its coming until we were inter- 
rupted by the prison launch, arrived to retrieve 
the anchor, and by my decision to put over our 

176 







The diver wore a worried, thoughtful expression, for there are 
sharks also in Kingston Harbor 




Lying beside the salvage tug, Hippo revealed that it isn't mere 
inches that makes seaworthiness 




Hauled out on the United Fruit Company's ways at Kington, 
all hands got busy with the paint brushes 




Six hours later, her sides and bottom painted, Hippo took the 
water with something like a sigh of relief 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

light hook in addition to the heavy one. On 
subsequent mornings, however, we have watched 
the daily awakening of the trade and have found 
it always the same and invariably fascinating. 
First comes the faint disturbance of the surface 
to which Harry had called our attention. That 
passes and is succeeded by a brief interval of 
calm. Then another agitation of the water, well 
over to the seaward side of the bay, a caress of 
the rising wind, which is suddenly duplicated in a 
dozen places. Soon the ruffled patches merge, 
and the effect of the wind, but not the wind it- 
self, is seen to advance in a long line across the 
bay. 

Until now the air in the vicinity of the Hippo- 
campus has been breathless, and we have idly re- 
volved around our anchor rode ; but soon we feel 
a vagrant breath of air against our bare arms 
and shoulders. The yawl, like an animal on the 
alert, ceases her purposeless movement and 
points seaward, facing an unknown danger. The 
advancing ripple, now augmented, brushes past 
us, the hollow tubes of the mizzen turnbuckles 

177 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

whistle a shrill defiance, the Hippocampus tenta- 
tively dips her forefoot, and we are embarked 
upon our daily tussle with the wind. 

Starting leisurely, by mid-afternoon the trade 
has whipped itself up to a thirty-mile gait; and 
the waves, sweeping across the bay, alternately 
dip our bowsprit and bumpkin under. Some- 
times, as on the day after our arrival in Kings- 
ton, the wind attains a forty-mile strength, and 
then the O'Toole boys, youthful water-dogs that 
they are, stand by in their bathing-suits to give 
help where it is needed. Generally by six in the 
evening the breeze has died away and the bay 
resumed its placidity ; a condition maintained un- 
til the next morning's visitation of the Doctor. 

Sailing races never become drifting matches 
in Kingston, but, to the contrary, more than one 
has been won by the last man to remain afloat. 
This is all very well for those who are born and 
brought up in Kingston and know no respite 
from the tropical trades, but if ever I visit this 
delightful island by yacht again I shall moor 
my craft in the snug harbor at Port Antonio and 
journey to the capital by rail. 

178 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

In a previous paragraph I mentioned a hulk 
that had been used as a breakwater for the yacht 
club anchorage. For several years it has been 
lost ; but we have found it. On our first day in 
port, following our seance with the dragging 
anchor and our rescue by the O'Tooles, the two 
Joes returned aboard, got up anchor and then, 
maneuvering off the yacht club, let go at pre- 
cisely the spot indicated by the kindly stranger 
ashore. Our seventy-five-pound anchor, descend- 
ing with the uncanny magnetic attribute of a 
lodestone, drew itself to the submerged wreck and 
became entangled in its iron ribs. We were 
more securely anchored than we knew, and the 
other hook which we put out the following morn- 
ing as a precaution was only an aggravation of 
our difficulty. 

That evening, meaning to haul in the light 
anchor to prevent the two lines from fouling 
overnight, we found that it would not budge, and 
although we were then unaware of the existence 
of the hulk, we surmised that our customary in- 
port luck had got the better of us. So two 
days later, when we had completed arrangements 

179 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

for hauling out the yawl to paint her bottom, we 
buoyed both lines and sought the west-end wharf 
of the United Fruit Co., leaving in abeyance the 
disentanglement of the anchors. 

Native boys, at home in the water as on dry 
land, placed us over a cradle and blocked our 
keel, and in a few minutes a gang of blacks, 
sweating profusely over a windlass, had hauled us 
up the marine railway. Then we got into diffi- 
culties with Jamaican law. Being out of water 
we found that we should n't be there, but being 
out, we would be permitted to remain overnight 
provided we were forthwith fumigated at a cost 
of five guineas. Otherwise we must launch again 
before six o'clock to frustrate the rats which 
(it would appear) always leave the barren inter- 
ior of little yawls between the hours of sunset and 
sunrise and spread pestilence among the unsus- 
pecting inhabitants of the island. Rather than 
break the law or — a more important consider- 
ation — pay five guineas for fumigation, we de- 
termined to do a two days' job in one, and, work- 
ing uninterruptedly, we were actually able to 
paint the sides and bottom in less than six hours. 

180 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

This was the first time we had hauled out since 
our initial launching in April, and we were re- 
lieved to find that aside from a slight softening of 
the seams near the spot which had received the 
impact of the ten-ton boulder in our accident at 
Mayport, our underbody was uninjured. More- 
over, thanks to its liberal coating of bronze paint, 
the bottom was as clean as if we had taken the wa- 
ter three days instead of three months previously. 
This, I think, speaks volumes for the efficacy of 
bronze composition, inasmuch as for two of the 
three months we have cruised through waters in 
which the teredo and marine growths are notor- 
iously destructive. 

Going off the ways in the late afternoon 
we moored to a barge near by, and resignedly 
awaited the passing of Sunday and Emancipation 
day, August 1, on which the negroes celebrate 
the liberation of their forefathers from a state of 
slavery. 

On Tuesday afternoon, following a luncheon 
at the Jamaica Club as guests of Commodore W. 
Baggett Gray of the Royal Jamaica Yacht Club, 
Al and I went aboard the American tug J. J. 

181 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

Merritt and sought an interview with her salvage 
captain, J. J. Johnson. He is an enthusiastic 
yachtsman, the part owner of a local sloop that 
has raced and won in northern waters, and in his 
official capacity he has salvaged nearly all the 
American yachts that have stranded on Carib- 
bean shores during the last twenty years. We 
laid before him our petty troubles— two anchors, 
and their lines hopelessly entangled in a wreck — 
and he was as interested and concerned as he 
would have been at the tale of a palatial yacht 
gone aground on Roncador Reef. More, he was 
sympathetic, and out of the kindness of his heart 
offered to send down a diver for the mere cost 
of his services. 

This cost was so much better than the regular 
fee of $25 a dive that we left the tug greatly 
elated, promising to return early the follow- 
ing morning and lead the way to the buoyed 
cables. 

Strangely enough, we were as good as our 
word (although a life of cruising begets bad hab- 
its in the matter of punctuality), and six o'clock 
saw us shoving off with Captain Johnson in the 

182 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

diving launch, the Hippocampus looking pretty 
small alongside the I. J. Merritt. Arriving off 
the yacht club we were pleased to find the buoy 
still afloat, and were yet more delighted, after a 
spasm of bubbling from the bottom of the bay, to 
be told by the diver's helper that we might haul 
away on the heavy anchor. A few minutes 
later the other line was liberated, and long before 
the Doctor had paid his morning call we were 
breakfasting aboard the Merritt j our anchors on 
Hippo's deck and their lines neatly coiled by 
members of the tug's crew. 

Gratifying as it is to be the recipient of kind- 
nesses such as those accorded us by Captain John- 
son and his fellows of the sea, it is still more pleas- 
ing to be privileged to mention them in print. 
And this chapter cannot conclude without repre- 
sentation of our interview at the offices of the 
United Fruit Co. when we called to pay our 
hauling-out bill. 

"We 've come," said Al, "to find out what we 
owe you for hauling us out last Saturday." 

"Did we haul you out?" asked the manager. 
"I 'd forgotten." 

183 



DIVERS EXPERIENCES 

"You certainly did, and you 'd better take our 
money while we have it." 

"Well, let me see. You Ve come a long way 
and you may never get to where you 're going, 
ajnd the cost will be — nothing." 

They may have hurricanes in the tropics — 
though we Ve yet to see one — and sharks, and all 
manner of predatory influences. But the 
hearts of the inhabitants are in the right place. 



184 



IX 

ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

THE Hippocampus has arrived at Colon, 
Panama, and as I look over the record 
of her voyage across the Caribbean Sea I own 
to a feeling of bitter disapointment. In justice 
to the reader who has patiently followed the little 
yawl on her journey from New York I desired to 
include in this story an account of a battle with 
the elements that would dwarf into insignificance 
every previous happening of the sea. I wanted 
to be able to say, "As I recovered consciousness 
I saw the mainmast go by the board ; the mizzen 
ballooned off into space; the cabin hatch reeled 
after it, ripped off by the sheer force of the hurri- 
cane, and in another minute we were at the mercy 
of the waves." I thought that it would enhance 
the dramatic quality of my yarn if it were written 
on a raft with sharks encircling me and were con- 
signed to the deep in the last of our muscatel 
bottles. 

185 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

Unfortunately, nothing of this sort occurred. 
For 550 miles we sailed steamship courses, and 
for four days of the five that were occupied in 
running from Kingston, Jamaica, to the Atlantic 
terminus of the Panama Canal we enjoyed 
weather conditions of the Grade A Select variety. 
Nothing could have been more disappointing 
from the writer's point of view; and nothing 
more delightful from the navigator's. 

Throughout the entire voyage of the Hippocam- 
pvs, which now draws to a close, I have been the 
troubled possessor of a sort of dual personality. 
One part of me is the navigator who offers co- 
pious libations to the gods of weather and is best 
pleased when conditions are ideal; the other the 
writer who leaves port dolorously, hoping that 
everything unpleasant and exciting will happen 
at once. Unfortunately for both sides of my 
personality, we have experienced mediocre wea- 
ther and have never been totally and efficaciously 
shipwrecked. 

Had we stayed a day longer in Kingston, how- 
ever, there might have been a thrill or two to 
write about. For the better part of the two 

186 



I 




w 



S.Me$rit 



** *.J* mm \cr re- 




course, noon positions, and daily mileages of 
Hippocampus en route Jamaica — Panama 

187 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

weeks that we remained in port, touring the 
island by motor-car, making friends ashore, and 
enduring the harsh treatment of the trade wind, 
Squibb had a premonition that we should come to 
grief before leaving. So definite did his presen- 
timent become that for the last two days he 
stayed aboard almost entirely, despite the assur- 
ance of Chambers and myself that the yawl could 
take good care of herself. 

When on the morning of August 7 we slipped 
our cable and took a party of local yachtsmen for 
a run around the course in Kingston harbor, I 
thought that his premonition would come to fru- 
ition. At the outset it was a three-reef breeze 
for the two local yachts that left their moorings 
with us; but we, running down the wind to the 
turning-point off the Myrtle Bank Hotel, car- 
ried full sail and carried it nicely. 

Coming about, however, and starting up the 
beat to the Palisados, we heeled as we do at sea, 
and spray came aboard to discomfort those of our 
guests who were not properly clothed for the 
occasion. Still, the pots in the galley and the 
books on the cabin shelves comported themselves 

188 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

with dignity and we had no thought of shortening 
sail. But as we neared the upper turning buoy, 
this thought occurred to us simultaneously with 
the arrival of a squall. All hands sprang to the 
mainsail, the halyards rattled through the blocks, 
and we won our contest with the main strength 
of the wind by the fraction of a minute. Noth- 
ing would disgust me more completely than to 
strain our spars or rigging in the supposed shelter 
of a harbor. 

Returning to the yacht club anchorage under 
jib and jigger we picked up our mooring with- 
out making it too evident to bystanders on the 
shore that we usually do such work under power. 
Whereupon, finding that Squibb still cherished 
his notion of impending trouble, we paid farewell 
calls in relays, at no time leaving the yawl unat- 
tended. 

Late the following afternoon, we learned from 
the local radio station that no disturbances had 
been reported in the West Indies and decided 
that the time was ripe to put to sea. Hurricanes, 
I may say parenthetically, had been pretty much 
in the back of our minds ever since we had en- 

189 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

tered the tropics, and not until we reached Ja- 
maica and learned that we were but two days re- 
moved from the southern limit of storm tracks 
had we felt at all easy about them. 

Now Chambers and I obtained our bill of 
health from the American consul, and returned 
aboard to find the Hippocampus undergoing her 
usual trade-wind contortions. Squibb was 
champing at the bit and the sea-horse herself 
strained at the tether and reared her head in a 
thoroughly equine manner. 

"She 's rarin' to go," said Squibb, "and I 'm 
about one jump ahead of nervous prostration. 
Let 's get before something happens." 

So we got. Not, however, without starting 
the motor and breaking the anchor out. And 
when the two Joes, enjoying the assistance of the 
power-plant, but yet pulling hard on the hawser, 
brought the line half in they found the underly- 
ing reason for Squibb's premonition. The haw- 
ser had caught on a piece of hidden wreckage and 
was chafed two thirds through. Another day 
and perhaps another hour in port and we should 
have gone adrift from our anchor, and not even 

190 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

the efforts of the O' Toole boys could have saved 
us from piling up on the harbor wall. It is such 
things as this that make us glad to be at sea. 

On this occasion we were more than ever glad 
to have plenty of water beneath and all 
around us, for we knew that unless the trade 
wind broke a habit that was established when the 
earth first started its rotary motion, fair winds 
Would blow us across the Caribbean. We had 
said good-by to the old days of beating three 
miles to gain a mile and we could read our Dis- 
tance Made Good from the dial of the patent log. 
So we anticipated and sd we found it. 

Moreover, this long jump in open water was 
extremely interesting from the navigational 
point of view, as the reader may learn if he will 
permit a short excursion into the technique 
of sailing. Colon lies south by west from Kings- 
ton, and if we could have relied on the trade 
wind's blowing from north of east for the entire 
distance, it might have been a simple matter to 
lay a course on taking our departure and main- 
tain it throughout, altering only slightly to allow 
for drift and leeway. Had we started immedi- 

191 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

ately on a south by west course, however, and 
encountered after two or three days a south- 
easterly slant, we should have been obliged to 
resume our old business of beating against the 
wind. There was also the possibility of being 
set too far to westward by the main currents of 
the Caribbean and making a landfall to leeward 
of Colon, and even of being set down on Port- 
land Rock, which lies fifty miles from Kingston 
and only fifteen off the most direct route to 
Colon. 

, Having these things in consideration we 
steered a course of south by east immediately 
after taking our departure from the outermost 
cay at the entrance to Kingston harbor. We 
sailed full and by, the mainsail double-reefed, the 
wind coming down from the east at a strength 
of thirty or thirty-five miles an hour. It was 
rough. Joe Chambers admitted it, and opined 
that there had been too much fizz in the gin-fizz he 
imbibed before leaving. I admitted it, stand- 
ing before the galley stove, my legs stretched 
and my head braced against the hatch cover as 
I prepared the evening meal. Joe Squibb, who 

192 



: "i 




Guests used to think that the dink, although admirable in other 
respects, came a little short of dignity 




Two of the members of the crew striving to look pleased while 
raising a thirst on the Myrtle Bank lawn 




Only in Jamaica can one swim in the chill fresh water of a 
rushing river and float down into the briny sea 




Roaring River Falls, Jamaica, where the stream drops from the 
skyline to wind through a grove of cocoanuts 






ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

has the constitution of a horse, sat at the tiller 
and sang a French ditty. He alone was unaf- 
fected by the sea, but we all agreed that if it 
had become the least bit rougher we should have 
spoiled the perfect score that we have maintained 
in fourteen weeks of cruising. 

But as we left shoal water the seas grew longer 
and less precipitous, and toward morning the 
wind slacked off. This is a pleasant habit which 
the trade wind has — of easing up during the 
night and permiting the watch below to enjoy 
its repose. Why it doesn't die away entirely 
at night as it does almost invariably in Kingston 
harbor is something that will have to be left to 
the meteorologists to explain. 

The next day at noon I had difficulty in ob- 
taining my sight for latitude — a circumstance 
that may seem odd to the sailor who has never 
cruised below the tropic of Cancer, for in the 
higher latitudes the noon sight is rightly consid- 
ered as simple as rolling off a log. In Lat. 16° 
48' N., however, where we were on the ninth day 
of August, the sun is only 00° 55' south of the 
observer, and, what with finding a spot on deck 

193 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

that is not shadowed or obscured by sails and 
rigging, with pointing the sextant directly south, 
and with making the sun kiss the horizon at the 
exact moment of local apparent noon, the pro- 
ceeding is anything but simple. The resulting 
fix was inexact, but it showed a distance of ap- 
proximately seventy-five miles made good from 
the point of departure and a course made good of 
S.% E., or only one eighth point of leeway and 
drift. 

That afternoon we enjoyed the most perfect 
weather of the cruise, for the wind continued to 
blow from the right direction, the sky was fair, 
and there was only enough sea running to give 
the long, easy roll that is one of the delights of 
small boat sailing. In mid-afternoon, when we 
shook out both reefs, we voted unanimously that, 
despite the ever-present threat of hurricanes and 
the general opinion to the contrary, the Carib- 
bean is the ideal sea in which to cruise in summer 
weather. 

In the early evening, deeming that we had 
made sufficient easting, we changed course to 
south magnetic and so continued for another 

194 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

twenty-four hours. At the expiration of this 
period we had added another hundred miles to 
our distance and made good a course of S.%W. 
We were then feeling more strongly the 
westward set of the Yucatan current, as was ap- 
parent from the three eighths of a point diver- 
gence between the course sailed and that made 
good. Nevertheless, we were still well to wind- 
ward of Colon, and I decided on a further change 
of course to westward, waiting, however, for the 
result of our afternoon sight for longitude before 
altering to south by west. 

During the ensuing night and morning the 
weather changed to cloudy, with occasional sharp 
showers, and as the hour drew on to noon I won- 
dered whether I should be able to get my altitude 
sight. For some weeks I had been aware of a 
growing feeling of irritation every time I at- 
tempted to determine our position with reference 
to the equator, for not only had we chanced to 
keep our latitude and the declination of the sun 
virtually identical, but we had found that re- 
course to the pole star was denied us by banks 
of cloud which invariably assembled to northward 

195 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

at morning and evening twilight. At the risk 
of becoming too technical, I may add that I had 
failed to provide myself with azimuth tables of 
stars having declinations of more than twenty- 
three degrees and that none of those observable 
stars having lesser declinations were suitably 
placed for ascertaining our latitude. 

Consequently, I was much more elated than the 
situation would seem to warrant when at five 
minutes to twelve the clouds broke away over- 
head and I obtained a sight of the sun. As our 
latitude had now become appreciably lower than 
the declination of the celestial body, there was 
no difficulty in catching it where it belonged on 
the northern horizon and in transferring to our 
chart a fix of whose accuracy I could be certain. 
So fortified, we again waited for an afternoon 
sight and at 5:10 changed course to south- 
southwest — another point to westward. 

During this day we sighted our first ship since 
leaving port, and there occurred small incidents 
which one comes to expect in Idng-distance cruis- 
ing. I glanced aloft, for instance, speculating 
on the strength of an approaching squall, and dis- 

196 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

covered that the gaff lacing of the mainsail had 
chafed in two against the lee shrouds. Where- 
upon we lowered and repaired the break while 
the squall passed by. Late at night, while 
Squibb and I were putting a double reef in the 
sail on the approach of dirty weather, we acci- 
dentally came about, and in so doing fouled the 
log-line on the rudder. Two dismal, rainy hours 
passed while I untangled the kinks from the 
line. 

On August 12, our fourth day out of port, the 
wind shifted to southeast, and we had reason to 
be thankful that we had kept well up wind from 
Colon. Still having the weather gage, we merely 
sheeted in, hekTthe tack, and continued on our 
course, and our noon position showed that we had 
made our best day's run — 120 miles in twenty- 
four hours. -By nightfall, when we were within 
a hundred miles of the isthmus of Panama, the 
steady breath of the trade wind left us and we 
found ourselves becalmed in the center of a large 
storm area. Thunder-showers volleyed all 
around us, the barometer pumped alarmingly (as 
it does on the approach of a hurricane), and we 

197 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

felt that the proper time had come to expend 
some of the sixty-five-cent gasolene with which 
we had provided ourselves in Jamaica. 

Two hours of running under power carried us 
out of the storm-center and into another favor- 
able slant of wind, and we continued under sail 
until eight o'clock of August 13, when, at the 
passing of a particularly violent squall, the wind 
died. As we were debating the advisability of 
re-starting the motor, we saw two waterspouts 
form to eastward of us and brought the discussion 
to a speedy close. We started up and were not 
long in putting distance between us and the 
spouts. 

Nor, the calm continuing that day and all the 
ensuing night, did we again stop the motor. 
Chugging along under a leaden sky at our cus- 
tomary cruising speed of five miles an hour, we 
drew near to the coast of Panama, and at four 
o'clock, when the sun showed his face for an in- 
stant, I obtained my only sight of the day. It 
checked with our dead reckoning longitude, and, 
continuing on our S. S. W. course, I was not too 

198 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

much surprised when, an hour later, we sighted 
Manzanillo Point broad on our port bow — ex- 
actly where we wanted it to be. When at dusk 
the red and white flashing light of Isla Grande 
showed under the high shore of Manzanillo, we 
spliced the main brace; and one has to make a 
perfect landfall after five days in a tossing yawl 
to understand just how enthusiastically we 
spliced it. 

We were still fifty miles from Colon, and in 
a continued calm we chugged along, bucking a 
strong current. It was ideal motor sailing, the 
moon shining brilliantly through puffy clouds 
which lacked the ugly menace that had been the 
chief characteristic of clouds in Cuban waters, 
and a big lazy swell overtaking us and restrict- 
ing our horizon as we sank into the hollows. The 
side-lights of a steamship drew near on our star- 
board quarter and were replaced by a single 
white light as the ship changed course and bore 
away to westward. Presently the red and green 
lights flashed again into view, and throughout 
the night we had the companionship of this 

199 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

stranger, cruising back and forth, but slowly 
drawing near to harbor, awaiting the coming of 
dawn. 

As daylight strengthened we saw on our left 
a series of sweeping hills falling away from the 
heights behind Manzanillo Point, their valleys 
swathed in mist, their shadows the deep purple 
and their high-lights the vivid green which one 
comes to expect in tropical landscapes. On the 
right I was surprised (so deficient is my knowl- 
edge of geography) to find that in place of the 
axial range of mountains with which my imagina- 
tion had provided the isthmus, there was only low 
ground, such as one may see along the Connec- 
ticut shore of the Sound. Ahead, the break- 
waters of Limon Bay opened up, and we saw 
through the entrance the smooth harbor and the 
buildings of Colon and Cristobal. Over Man- 
zanillo, astern of us, there floated a segregated 
patch of cloud above the gray, horizon-sweeping 
cumulus. As the sun rose it glowed into the 
ruddy hue of embers and displayed a narrow selv- 
age of golden saffron, gleaming like silk. 

We liked the prospect, and after two months 

200 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

of cruising in foreign waters, felt that we were 
coming home. Passing between the jetties, we 
lay to in the examination anchorage, following 
the example of our night-time acquaintance, 
which daylight revealed to be a navy tanker. 
Presently a small motor-boat (small by com- 
parison with the ships in harbor, but larger than 
the twenty-eight-foot Hippocampus) lay along- 
side and we were visited by a customs inspector, 
a measurer, and a doctor of the Panama Canal. 
They were Americans, of course, talking the 
American language, and they welcomed us 
heartily to the Canal Zone. At the rate of fifty 
a minute we answered questions relating to our 
health, our dimensions, and our general inten- 
tions, and then we were told that contrary to the 
usual custom we might stand up the bay without 
a pilot and anchor off the Cristobal water-front. 

So we did; and as we swung along astern of 
the navy tanker, proceeding slowly under a 
pilot's charge, I could not resist the temptation to 
shoot over an impudent question by semaphore. 

"Why did you stick around last night?" I 
asked through the medium of flags, and felt 

201 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

properly rebuked when I received in answer the 
words, "Because we wanted to." 

Perhaps in afterthought this answer seemed 
ungracious to the captain of the tanker, for in 
another moment his quartermaster sent the mes- 
sage, "Who are you?" 

"We are the yawl Hippocampus'' I replied, 
"from New York." 

"Kindly repeat the last two words," the flut- 
tering flags spelled out, and when I had made the 
repetition they added: 

"We would be pleased to have you call on us 
when we have come to dock." 

As it happened, we had no time to make the 
call, but I met the navigator of the tanker ashore 
in the afternoon and scolded him roundly for 
waiting to make a daylight entry into the harbor 
which, next to New York, is the best lighted in 
the North Atlantic. He excused himself with 
the plea that the light on Isla Grande was unre- 
liable (having derived this information from the 
"Light List"), but we ordinary seamen of the 
yawl knew that even the finest light will seem un- 
reliable when a violent rainstorm obscures an 

202 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

otherwise perfect night, and reduces the visibility 
to zero. 

Cristobal is the eastern terminus of the 
Panama Canal, separated from the Panamanian 
city of Colon by the tracks of the Panama Rail- 
road, and it was off the immense modern docks of 
Cristobal that we came to anchor, guided by the 
advice of an American ashore who first hailed 
us with — 

"If that 's the Hippo, we Ve been looking for 
you for a long time." 

After we had raised our sails to dry them in the 
morning sunlight and had thoroughly disorgan- 
ized ourselves with all manner of wet clothing 
spread about on deck, we received a friendly call 
from Percy Van Wagener and Jimmy Powell of 
the Texas Co. They constitute a self-appointed 
visiting committee of two to welcome all amateur 
mariners, whether bound for the South Sea 
Islands or places less remote, or whether search- 
ing for treasure or for rewards more tangible. 
They were come, they said, not to sell us a thou- 
sand tons of crude oil for our bunkers, but to in- 
vite us to dinner at the Strangers' Club. Every 

203 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

visiting sea-captain stops there, we were told, 
every adventurer, every world celebrity; and we 
must register in the book that President Hard- 
ing, the Prince of Wales, and all the rest had 
written in. Would we come? 

Will a dog eat meat, or a yawl roll in a sea- 
way? 

So the following evening saw us sitting around 
a rectangular table on the breeze-swept porch of 
the Strangers' Club; strangers no longer to 
Powell and Van Wagener, nor to our fellow- 
guests, E. G. Davidson and Captains Eden and 
Kohler. Conversation ranged from this to that 
and was judiciously interrupted by asides to a 
white-coated Jamaican boy who stood by, pencil 
in hand, and repeated after us, "Martini, Bronx, 
Planters' Punch, Haig & Haig," and a great 
many other magic words. The dinner which fol- 
lowed this auspicious opening will linger in my 
recollection after most other incidents of the 
cruise have faded from it, for it was the first time 
in years that I had sat down to a combination of 
excellent cuisine, Sauterne, Curasao, and the 

204 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

talk of men whose home is the world, who sail 
it or roam it with utter disregard to distance. 

There is a glamour to life in the Canal Zone, 
even though it is not entirely spent around the 
white napery of the Strangers' Club. In a 
sense it is pioneer country, for within five miles 
of the canal on either side is the rank jungle, a 
paradise for hunters — yet Colon and Panama 
City have their cabarets and show-girls and the 
sophistication of New York. In a glance one sees 
the primitive and the ultra-modern, but it is not 
this contrast — the propinquity, say, of partly 
clothed San Bias Indian and partially unclothed 
Broadway Indian — that arrests the attention. 

Most impressive is the fact that here, on the 
edge of South America, we have a miniature of 
North America. In Cristobal and New Cristo- 
bal we have Americans living in the American 
way, eating food and wearing clothes imported 
from the States, thinking American thoughts. 
The Panamanians may have the tropical 
"manana fever," putting off till the morrow the 
things that should be done to-day, taking their 

205 






CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

siestas, and shielding their faces from the sun. 
But the Americans go at their work and play just 
as if they were on their native soil. 

Everything in the Canal Zone is government- 
owned, although the landlord sometimes masque- 
rades under the name of the Panama Railroad 
Co. So abundant is the supply of electricity 
from the immense hydro-electric plant at the 
Gatun dam that every closet and every piano in 
the zone has its lights continually burning to 
dispel the dampness. The United States (or the 
railroad company) operates a slaughter-house, a 
cold-storage plant, modern bakeries, laundries, 
filtration-plants, dry-docks, machine-shops, hos- 
pital — everything to fill the ordinary or most un- 
usual need of employee or seafaring transient. 

Having from a safe distance heard the war- 
time rumblings of a government-controlled na- 
tional railway system, and having observed the 
sad disillusionment of those who put their trust 
in the Post-office Department, I am by prin- 
ciple opposed to government ownership and op- 
eration. Yet here I see a government organi- 
zation working smoothly, silently and with des- 

206 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

patch combined with the utmost degree of cour- 
tesy. A test of any mechanism is its flexibility, 
and I find here in the Panama Canal an executive 
machine that handles the smallest yacht with the 
same absence of fuss that characterizes its opera- 
tion with the largest battle-ship. We are not 
side-tracked because we are small, nor are we 
denied this or that privilege extended to the 
more remunerative customers of LTncle Sam. 
On the contrary, we had no sooner come in con- 
tact with officialdom than we were made to feel 
that our needs and our wishes were of paramount 
importance. 

If we are not spoiled by official cordiality, we 
stand in grave danger of being ruined by per- 
sonal hospitality, for we find here motor-boat 
enthusiasts, followers of the wanderings of 
Hippocampus, who insist on playing host to us 
and putting themselves at our disposal at any 
and all times. A. E. Arnold, of the commissary 
department, is a little grieved at this minute be- 
cause we believe that he and Mrs. Arnold should 
be our guests on board before we accept another 
dinner invitation; while H. F. Stevenson, whose 

207 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

friendly Jersey City voice hailed us from the 
dock as we entered Cristobal, says that he will 
regard it as a personal insult if we do not make 
his house our home, either now or at any future 
visit to the canal. And these are only two of the 
many who have showered kindnesses upon us. 

Yesterday afternoon I took my life in my 
hands by disposing my body on the after deck of 
Steve's motor-cycle to make a trip to Gatun Lake 
to ascertain the chances of storing Hippo in 
fresh water until next spring. Steve drives care- 
fully enough, but he is more used to engine-room 
telegraphs than to handle-bar controls, and I 
have the feeling that any moment with him may 
be the last for some incautious pedestrian. How- 
ever, we made the round-trip to the dam success- 
fully, and at Gatun had a highly satisfactory in- 
terview with F. W. Kariger, pilot in charge of 
lighthouses for the Panama Canal. 

Readers of the "National Geographic Maga- 
zine" will recognize in Kariger the nameless 
Samaritan who rescued the Dream Ship from a 
night of drifting when that famous cruiser broke 
down in Gatun Lake en route from England to 

208 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

the South Sea Islands. Rescued her in the 
motor-boat Eunice, a thing of shining brass, and 
towed her for hours at the alarming speed of six 
dollars an hour. Kariger has always deplored 
the government regulations that stipulate a cash 
return for favors rendered even to amateur mari- 
ners, and since then has been sympathetically in- 
terested in the ambitious wanderings of all craft 
too small to leave their own harbors. Conse- 
quently, he knew all about the Hippocampus and 
her itinerary, and even before the introductions 
were over asked me: 

"Why did you come around the western end of 
Cuba?" 

I gave him one of half a dozen reasons that I 
had on the tip of my tongue, and he replied, "It 
may have helped literature; but it was an error 
in seamanship." 

"How so?" I asked defensively. "Going the 
eastern end we would have had wind and cur- 
rent against us ; coming the western way we had 
current for us and only calms and waterspouts to 
bother us." 

"Calms and waterspouts? Well, you are 

209 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

lucky. I Ve steamboated it there since I was 
no bigger than a baby hippocampus, and I 'd 
sooner swim up Gatun spillway than sail from 
Cape San Antonio to Jamaica when the trade 
wind is blowing as it usually blows in that vicin- 
ity. And now what can I do for you?" 

Timidly I told him of my plans and aspirations 
— to pass through the canal and dip Hippocam- 
pus in the waters of the Pacific before storing her 
somewhere for use another season. 

"The easiest thing in the world/' said Kariger. 
"But I '11 tell you something about the tropics. 
You can't lay up a boat in the Atlantic or the 
Pacific because the teredo will eat her up, and 
you can't haul her out because the ants will eat 
her up. The only thing you can do is to leave 
her in fresh water off my dock where she '11 be 
safe from insects (and Indians) , where I '11 keep 
my eye on her, have her painted, and her engine 
kept free from rust. And I '11 store her sails and 
cushions in a dry closet. Does that seem satis- 
factory?" 

Satisfactory? I was overwhelmed, and posi- 

210 



ROLLING DOWN TO COLON 

tively stuttered my thanks. I have grown pretty 
fond of the little Hippo in the last four months, 
and it had troubled me not a little that I might 
have to leave her in unsympathetic hands. But 
now my mind is at rest. 

On my return trip to Cristobal, perched pre- 
cariously on the quarter-deck of Steve's motor- 
cycle, Steve told me mercilessly that Kariger 
would give the yawl a thousand times better care 
than I could myself, and Steve is as well in- 
formed as he is frank. Though it be spoken in 
a spirit of mean revenge, I feel that the Hippo- 
campus is safer for a year in Gatun Lake than 
I am for another minute of Steve's motor-cycle. 



211 



X 



THE JOURNEY'S END 



HAVING been open to the deep-sea traffic 
of the world for a mattter of five years, 
the Panama Canal is blase. Battle-ships which 
possess the power to thrill the least emotional 
of souls pass through it, and the pelicans, sitting 
on the bleached branches of trees rising from the 
bottom of Gatun Lake, shrug contemptuous 
shoulders. Twice a month the tremendous emer- 
gency gates at the Gatun locks are experiment- 
ally closed, to the wonder and admiration of all 
visitors who are mechanically minded, but the 
Hebraic little frogs of the dam pay them no at- 
tention. Unperturbed they croak their guttural 
Oy, Oy, Oy — a sound that, even more than the 
songs of the cabaret-girls in Colon, reminds me 
of little old New York. Ships from Shanghai, 
Cape Town, Liverpool, pass from ocean to ocean 
in a day, and the lock engineers, unamazed, re- 
pair to the carpenter-shop between the lock cham- 

212 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

bers and pursue their interrupted craftsmanship 
in fine native woods. 

The whole Canal Zone is so scaled up to the 
operation of tremendous works that the unusual 
in point of size, intricacy, or ingenuity has become 
usual. Conversely, the small ship or the minor 
undertaking has become interesting. Hence it 
was that the "Star and Gizzard," less affection- 
ately known as the "Star and Herald," of 
Panama City, singled out the Hippocampus for 
a column of glowing praise. From this news 
story we learned that our twenty-eight-foot yawl 
is the smallest boat ever to pass through the canal 
on a long cruise. 

Gratifying as it was to know that our diminu- 
tive proportions had established a record in the 
annals of the canal, we were still more pleased by 
a special concession that was accorded us by the 
authorities. Having cruised from New York 
without once taking a pilot, and having at times 
navigated difficult places without adequate charts, 
we entertained an ambition to pass through the 
most meticulously piloted waterway in the world 
without a professional hand at our tiller. 

213 



I 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

We disclosed our desire to the port captain at 
Colon and learned that it was unusual, unten- 
able, and preposterous. No ship, we were told, 
other than a government vessel, had ever passed 
through the canal without a pilot; no ship was 
permitted to move even from anchorage to dock 
without one. It was not that we were incapable 
of passing through without a pilot; our wish 
was contrary to the rules and regulations govern- 
ing the canal. 

Severe as it seems, this ultimatum was couched 
in friendly phrases, and we took heart. 

"Very well," we replkd, in effect, "why not 
abrogate the rules? What are rules for if you 
can't break 'em?" And we presented a few tell- 
ing facts and figures. By official measurement 
Hippocampus is of six tons gross weight; by 
official classification she is a vessel in ballast and 
is chargeable at seventy-five cents a ton, or $4.50 
for the passage. This sum includes the services 
of the pilot. The pilot's hire would nick the 
Government $14. Problem: Find the Govern- 
ment's percentage of profit. 

This presentation of statistics won the case for 

214 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

us, and, following our assurance that we were 
able to differentiate between red and black buoys, 
we received permission to proceed at will from 
Cristobal to Balboa. 

On the morning of August 19 we got under 
way from our anchorage, and with E. G. David- 
son, a mining engineer, aboard as passenger, 
swung into the channel leading to the Gatun 
locks. With us, as we approached the giant's 
stairway, steamed the S.S. Arapehu, bound from 
England to New Zealand, and her passengers, 
lining the rail, watched us with interest as we 
lowered our brilliant yacht ensign and in its 
stead hoisted a dingy, time-worn remnant of a 
United States ensign. They did not know, of 
course, that this flag, once brave and bright, had 
spread its stripes in the Adriatic submarine zone, 
and had been brought to Panama to enrich its 
sentimental value; but from the studied non- 
chalance of the crew of Hippocampus they may 
have guessed that the occasion was one of great 
moment to us. 

To say the least of it, one does n't enter a thou- 
sand-foot lock in a twenty-eight-foot yawl with 

215 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

a calm, untroubled mind. We knew that the in- 
coming water would surge up under us from six- 
teen-foot culverts, and we had been told often 
enough of the damage resulting to small boats. 
Some had had their rails and rubstreaks ripped 
away, and even navy tugs had been torn from 
their moorings and whipped about in the lock 
chambers. As we waited for the Arapehu to 
enter the first lock ahead of us we felt that cross- 
ing the open Caribbean was child's play com- 
pared with this adventure. 

Nevertheless, as I say, we were nonchalant. 
Under power we crept up near the stern of the 
ocean liner and lay to alongside the left wall of 
the lock chamber. Heaving lines were dropped 
on to our awning from above, and when we ob- 
served their slightness we politely but firmly 
asked for heavier stock. The ponderous gates 
were closing, time pressed, but new lines of three- 
quarter-inch diameter were soon forthcoming. 
The upper ends were secured to bollards forty 
feet above us and we were advised to take a turn 
with each around our bitts and prepare to haul 
in slack. It sounded simple in prospect. 

216 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

With the first inrush of water — an influx, by 
the way, a dozen times more tumultuous than 
the admission of water to the locks in the New 
York barge canal — we were thrown violently 
against the wall, and there we stayed, chewing 
away our rubstreak, for the first fifteen feet of 
the thirty-foot rise. GBut presently a violent 
counter-current caught our stern, and try as Al 
and Davidson, manning the stern-line, would, 
they could not hold us close to the wall. This 
was an exciting two minutes, but suddenly the 
current slacked off, and we floated as placidly 
as a celluloid duck in a bath-tub. One third of 
the agony was over. 

The next third was the worst, for there is some- 
thing inexplicable about the middle lock at each 
end of the canal that plays hob with the currents 
and with the small craft caught in their rough 
embrace. Even capital ships have trouble in the 
second lock, and we have heard of iron chocks 
and yards of hand railing being hurled high in 
air when the electric "mules" curb the unruly 
plunges of their charges. 

This time as theiiuge gates closed majestically 

217 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

behind us we lost some of our nonchalance, and 
I for one felt somewhat as Poe's character felt 
when he looked up from his cot and saw the walls 
of his dungeon drawing together. We had 
started the motor to convey us to the upper level, 
but now we shut it off and stood on deck ready- 
to pull or push. Joe Chambers and Davidson 
were again at the after line, and Joe Squibb at 
the less troublesome bow line, while I stood by 
prepared to soften the first crash of the boat 
against the stone coping. 

The crash came as the water eddied up, and 
again the splinters flew. For a moment we 
hugged the wall, Chambers and Davidson taking 
slack feverishly, and then again the current 
caught our stern and robbed us of the slack. 
The line hauled taut and we surged forward. 
There was no heaving against that urge. In- 
stead, as the water rose, the angle of the hum- 
ming line increased from the perpendicular, and 
in a moment we were irresistibly thrust stern first 
toward the center of the chamber. The turn- 
buckle of the after mizzen shroud snapped as the 

218 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

line tended against it. The bitt started slightly 
from the deck. 

"Pay out slowly," I advised; "let the current 
take us." For I feared that a parted line would 
throw us under the stern of the Arapehu. And 
with one turn around the bitt, the steaming line 
snaked slowly through the aching hands of the 
two men. Now we lay at right angles to the 
wall, and now as I ran forward to fend us off, we 
splintered the tip of our bowsprit against the 
unyielding stone. In another moment Chambers 
cast off the stern line, for it was threatening to 
carry away all our port-side rigging; but at that 
instant the current slacked off and we floated 
gently, starboard side to the wall. 

Not too gently, however, and of course the 
dink interposed itself between us and the stone. 
There came a cry from the quarter-deck of our 
lock mate, and Al, seeming to anticipate the 
warning, yanked the tender from harm's way by 
a margin of inches. We eased the Hippo's 
shock of impact and breathed again. 

Likewise we cast off our remaining line, started 

219 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

the motor, turned around in the lock, and fol- 
lowed the Arapehu into the third and topmost 
chamber. As we took our mooring lines from 
the lock tenders on the lake level we received a 
word of encouragement. 

"You 're through the worst of it," said Walker, 
an official who later showed us through the op- 
erating galleries of Gatun, "and if you '11 haul 
aft a bit to lie directly abreast the ladder you 11 
have no further trouble." 

We did as we were advised, and found when 
the water was admitted that we had been placed 
directly above one of the big inlet culverts. The 
effect was somewhat similar to that of a ball 
sustained in air on the powerful jet of a foun- 
tain; for the current, rising perpendicularly be- 
neath us, divided fore and aft and kept us in slack 
water. 

In this lock I replaced Al at the stern line, for 
his hands were raw from his experience, but had 
little to do but take in slack as we ascended. In 
one hour and nine minutes from the time of en- 
tering the lowest lock we were in the fresh water 

220 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

of Gatun Lake, but little the worse for rough 
usage, and with the last major excitement of 
the cruise behind us. 

The New Zealander was towed from the cham- 
ber by her six electric locomotives, and as she 
cast off her steel cables, we started our motor and, 
dodging the back wash from her propeller, headed 
blithely for the dock of the canal lighthouse 
depot. There we were welcomed by Kariger, 
pilot in charge of lighthouses, and there inspected 
the motor-boat Eunice, which, as I mentioned in 
the last chapter, figured extensively in the canal 
passage of the Dream Ship. 

Eunice is chiefly interesting to northern eyes 
in her deck of solid teak. We are used to this 
tropical wood in the ornamentation of expensive 
yachts, and consider it bordering on the sacrile- 
gious tor employ it for the deck of a work-boat. 
Yet Kariger told me that for five years the hob- 
nailed shoes of negro deck-hands, the heavy 
weight of gasolene drums, and the sharp edges 
of acetylene bottles have pressed against it; and 
he successfully defied me to find a dent in its 

221 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

surface. If the Hippocampus had been pro- 
vided with a rubstreak of teak before passing 

through the Gatun locks she would not now re- 
quire the services of a carpenter on her port- 
side. 

That evening we motored with a party of 
friends back to Colon for a go at the movies, and 
that night for the first time since our departure 
from Key West we fought a battle with the 
mosquitoes. In the terminal cities, and else- 
where in the zone at a distance of more than 200 
yards from the lake shore line, mosquitoes are 
virtually non-existent, but at the lighthouse dock 
they are wild and wicked and voracious. Our 
old friend citronella ministered to us through the 
night, but I suspect the Gatun mosquitoes of 
drinking from the mouth of the bottle and re- 
turning refreshed to the onslaught. 

Consequently we were cheerless and heavy- 
eyed when our friends Arnold and Stevenson de- 
scended from the morning train from Colon and 
boarded us for the run across the canal. It was 
raining dismally at the time (as Davidson, who 
had slept on deck under the awning, could well 

222 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

attest) , and as we looked out over the broad reach 
of the lake we could see nothing. But the trop- 
ical clouds were incapable of spreading a wet 
blanket over the spirits of our new guests. They 
know the rainy season, and they confidently pre- 
dicted that with the starting of the motor the rain 
would slack off and stay slacked off for the rest 
of the day. 

As a matter of fact it did, and although the 
day was overcast, we were informed that we could 
have no more perfect weather for the isthmian 
jaunt. The clotids, spreading a canopy under 
the sun, kept from us the infernal heat that is 
still remembered with dread by the men who dug 
Culebra Cut. 

In itself our trip across the isthmus was un- 
interesting, for the canal is so perfectly buoyed 
that a blind coal-passer could not lose his way. 
But the proximity of the jungle and the an- 
achronism of ocean-going ships meeting and pass- 
ing in fresh water served as fuel for conversation. 
At Darien, where there is a powerful naval radio- 
station, we looked eagerly for the peak upon 
Which our old friend Balboa stood when he sighted 

223 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

the Pacific — a peak immortalized in the lines of 
Keats : 

Or like stout Cortes when with eagle eyes 
He stared at the Pacific — and all his men 

Looked at each other with a wild surmise — 
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 

It 's all the poetry I know, and Bartlett had 
to help me with the first three lines; but I had 
the satisfaction of declaiming it when, under 
Steve's expert ciceronage, we found the peak — 
green, close-cropped by the canal engineers, and 
seemingly no higher than a dozen hillocks sur- 
rounding it. Subsequently we learned that the 
peak where Balboa (or, if you take the poet's 
word for it, Cortes) stood and, stared is situated 
in another Darien, several counties nearer the 
equator. But we had the thrill. 

We had a very good time altogether. Some 
one cooked up a navy mulligan at the psycho- 
logical moment and we partook of its delicious- 
ness as we passed between the still slipping sides 
of Culebra Cut — now known on the charts, but 
nowhere else, as Gaillard Cut. As we came to 
the locks of Pedro Miguel (invariably called 

224 




Already the masonry of the upper level of the Gatun Locks, 
Panama, wears an air of remote antiquity 




The giant double gates at Miraflores, with the huge protective 
chain in place to avert accidents 




Not a Fatu-Liva bird from the famous Filbert Islands, but a 
young toucan looking square at the photographer 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

Peter Mike) we licked from our fingers the last 
vestiges of the chocolate-cake which Mrs. Arnold 
had contributed to cap our meal. 

So fortified we were ready for anything, but 
found instead that peace and hospitality were to 
attend the last few miles of our southward 
voyage. At the Peter Mike locks we were in- 
formed that a welcome and safe mooring awaited 
us at the anchorage of the Balboa Boat House, 
and farther on at Miraflores a military-looking 
individual in the uniform of the lock guards 
cupped his hands and bellowed, 

"Have you got your orders*?" 

"What orders, sir?" we asked, habit slipping 
a mental cog back to sub-chaser days. 

"Your orders to make yourselves at home at 
the Balboa Boat House." 

Having been subconsciously prepared for the 
command, "When gassed and provisioned you 
may put to sea," our relief was intense, and grati- 
tude rendered us inarticulate. 

A few minutes later we dropped quietly to sea 
level, and when the last gates opened found our- 
selves at last in the waters of the Pacific. There 

225 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

was room at this juncture for reminiscence of 
the hundreds and thousands of crooked miles that 
we had put behind us in linking Balboa with New 
York; but there was no time for reflection. As 
|we swept out with the falling tide a small boat 
intercepted us and we were boarded by a man 
who we thought and feared was a pilot. If he 
was a pilot — and the insignia on his cap seemed 
to proclaim him such — he was spoiling our record 
in the last two miles of the journey. If he was 
not a pilot, he was as welcome as flowers in 
May. 

Our anxiety was not relieved until after we had 
anchored at his direction and he had left us to 
our own devices. Then Red Gibson, the Balboa 
jack of all trades, Whaler, Lear, Potter, and 
other yacht club members boarded us and we 
were informed that, anchored where we were, we 
would go high and dry at low water. So we 
knew that we had come to the southern point of 
our voyage without accepting the services of a 
pilot. Our escutcheon was still clean. ' 

Getting under way again we secured our 
anchor on deck, and made fast to a club mooring, 

226 






THE JOURNEY'S END 

thereby paving the way for our last misadven- 
ture. For the next thirty or forty minutes there 
was a mad flourish of clothes below decks, from 
which emerged the crew of the Hippocampus, 
slightly immaculate in liberty whites and with 
appetites whetted for a meal at the Century Club 
in Panama City. Lear had extended the invita- 
tion to crew and supernumeraries, but of the lat- 
ter Stevenson and Arnold had other engage- 
ments, and only Davidson accepted. Carr, an- 
other club member, came alongside in a floating 
tin Lizzie which is the admiration and wonder 
of all inhabitants of the Gold Coast, and we were 
ferried ashore. 

Of the dinner at the Century Club, graciously 
presided over by Lear's pal, .his fourteen-year- 
old daughter Dora, of the ensuing drive through 
the cool of the evening along the smooth Pacific 
highways of the zone, of our next day's visit to 
the ruins of Old Panama City, as guests of 
Davidson, and of other hospitality and diversions, 
there is room for no more than the merest men- 
tion. The arrival of the Hippocampus at Bal- 
boa had been expected since June, and in August 

227 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

we were made to understand that our welcome 
had been elastically extended. 

With the focus of our interest directed ashore, 
poor little Hippocampus suffered a severe dislo- 
cation. Neglect put her nose out of joint, and 
when, on the day after our arrival, the evening 
tide swept seaward in its sixteen-foot fall, she de- 
termined to create a diversion on her own ac- 
count. Deftly, quietly, but with a grieving 
heart she dragged her club mooring to a high 
spot on the middle ground which parallels the 
water-front, and there immolated herself on a 
sandy altar. At midnight when we left the 
shore in the club tender, caroling softly as voya- 
geurs are wont to do in the sma' hours, Al Cham- 
bers's keen eyes were suddenly attracted by the 
silhouette of tilted spars against the sky-line. 

"Hello," he said, "some poor dub is high and 
dry." 

A tightening of the throat strangled my feeble 
efforts to sing the bass of "Merrily We Roll 
Along/' and I whispered, 

"A thousand dollars (which I have n't) to one 
(which I hope to have) that I 'm the dub." 

228 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

Sure enough I was. As we drew nearer, we 
saw the Hippo lying over on her side, in the pa- 
thetic attitude of one who, having struggled to do 
her best, has wearied of well doing. Around her 
there was enough water to float the club tender, 
and from it I stepped to the diagonal plane of 
Hippocampus 's deck. 

Below there was much confusion. Clothes, 
camera, typewriter, and cushions lay in a con- 
glomerate heap on the cabin deck, a heap sur- 
mounted by my precious sextant. On nine hun- 
dred and ninety-nine other occasions I had 
wedged the sextant in its rack secure against the 
Hippo's most erratic gyrations. On the thous- 
andth I had neglected it. Even the chronom- 
eter, my most cherished instrument, hung pre- 
cariously, fixed by two threads of one screw, for 
I had been in the act of dismounting it for pack- 
ing when interrupted by some other duty. 

But the good luck which has attended all our 
mishaps saved our possessions from major in- 
jury, and I derived much consolation from the 
fact that we were heeled over to port where my 
spare clothes were not. Chambers, whose ne- 

229 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

glected turn it had been to pump the bilge, also 
came out unscathed, but Squibb's locker received 
the bilge-water. 

Seeing that we could neither sleep nor mend 
matters until the tide had again risen, we re- 
turned with blankets to the yacht club and turned 
in on the porch deck. At three o'clock I was 
again aboard to watch Hippo come to an even 
keel, and to learn that she had done herself no 
harm in her adventure. The others joined me 
and we slept until mid-morning, when we cast 
off our mooring and anchored in deep water. 

So the cruise of the Hippocampus ended as it 
had begun and as it had been continued for four 
months, a chapter of hair-breadth escapes from 
amusing or frightening misfortune. On a dozen 
occasions if we had been a little more favored by- 
fate there would have been no story to write ; and 
contra, if we had been less favored there would 
have been no one left to write the story. Success 

has crowned our efforts. 

# # # 

In the delightful closing hours of the cruise we 
wished fervently that we might go on without 

230 



THE JOURNEY'S END 

cessation, cruising, perhaps, to the South Seas be- 
fore all the world has been there. But the ne- 
cessity for earning an honest living has drawn 
me to New York. So after only three days in 
Balboa, we headed north again, bound for Gatun 
Lake and the business of putting Hippocampus 
out of commission for the winter months. 

A week passed in unshipping spars and sails, 
in drying cushions in the fitful periods of sun- 
shine which break through the August rain- 
clouds, in painting deck and cabin, and in placing 
equipment in dry storage. Then, when the 
Hippocampus was stripped of everything port- 
able, her energetic little motor snorted for the 
last time and chugged her to a mooring off the 
lighthouse depot. There she rests, saucy and 
trim as when she first took the water, awaiting 
my return. While three thousand miles of her 
native element separate her from me, she is 
brought constantly to the foreground of my 
mind by the written assurances of my Canal 
Zone friends that "Hippo is O. K." 

So also are the resourceful, energetic and com- 
panionable shipmates who helped me sail her to 

231 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

the zone. Both Squibb and Chambers, re- 
sponding to the lure of tropical life, have turned 
their backs, on the winds- and vicissitudes of 
northern existence. 

Squibb, again a landsman, but with the firmly 
established reputation of a sea-dog, is surveying 
for an oil company in the Colombian jungle. 
Chambers, always the rover and the adventurer, 
has cast his lot with our engineering friend 
Davidson, and at last accounts was heading for 
the upwaters of a great South American river, 
there to search for gold and diamonds. 

Hippocampus owes them much, but when 
I last saw her pirouetting at her mooring she 
wore the righteous air of one who gives as good 
as she receives. 



232 



XI 

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

'fTlHE blood of hundreds will be on your head 
-*■ if you make this cruise," said a friend of 
mine when I was discussing the possibilities 
of taking an auxiliary sailboat to the Pacific. 
That was a year ago, before the delightful little 
Hippocampus had sailed into my life. 

"How's that?" I asked. 

"Because you don't know anything about sail- 
ing, and you '11 be fool enough to say so ; and the 
first thing you know, all others who are as igno- 
rant as yourself will be following you to a watery 
grave." 

"But," I protested, "there does n't seem to me 
to be anything difficult or dangerous in the plain, 
unvarnished sailing that I intend to do. I '11 
have a motor to get me out of the tight places." 

"That 's all very well," said my friend. "But 
it takes at least five years of experience to make 

233 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

a yachtsman. What do you know about scan- 
dalizing a mainsail, for instance?" 

"Not a thing," I cheerfully admitted. "A 
mainsail is the last thing I 'd want to scandalize ; 
but if I were put to it, I bet it would n't take me 
five years to get the knack of it." 

"You 're hopeless," said my friend, and there 
the matter rested. 

Advice on Yawls 

Having learned that it was foolhardy of me 
to set off in a sailboat without prior experience 
in sailing, I next sought advice on the type of rig 
that is best suited for tropical cruising. The 
opinions delivered were many and varied. 

One man who had a sloop to sell pointed out 
that Josh Slocum sailed around the world in a 
sloop, and I had n't the wit at the time to know 
that Captain Joshua, after one* or two painful 
experiences, converted his sloop into a yawl and 
sailed for forty-two days on end without touch- 
ing the wheel. Another man knew where I could 
get a bargain in a Long Island thirty-footer, 
which had the advantage that in a sudden squall 

234 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

it would lie right over on its beam ends without 
capsizing. This bargain attracted me enor- 
mously until I was informed that cooking is dif- 
ficult aboard a boat that 's likely to lie over on its 
beam ends every minute or so. 

Then I got into the hands of experts who 
assured me that a schooner is absolutely the only 
thing for long-distance cruising. 

"Very well," said I. "Bring on your 
schooners. Schooners for all hands." 

It appeared that I had the wrong kind of 
schooner in mind. And when it penetrated my 
consciousness that a schooner yacht is a vessel with 
two whopping big mainsails, I lost some of my 
enthusiasm. This was to be a pleasure cruise; 
not a punishment. 

One man suggested ketches. He knew where 
I could buy a fine big ketch named Typhoon, 
that had sailed across the ocean and back. When 
he named a price of $6000 I contented myself 
with borrowing Typhoon's taffrail log. 

Brigs, barks, brigantines, and barkantines be- 
ing out of the question, my choice seemed to be 
narrowed down to yawls and I paid a friendly 

235 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

call on an editor to ask him what he knew about 
yawls. He knew a lot about them. 

"Theoretically/' he said, "the yawl is the ideal 
type of sailboat for long or short distance cruis- 
ing. Everybody who has never sailed a yawl 
will tell you that. However, I 've yet to hear 
from a man who has sailed one, and my personal 
opinion is that actually a yawl is the worst rig 
for any kind of cruising. The mizzen-mast is 
stepped above the water-line, and if that does n't 
kill a yawl as a seaworthy proposition, I can give 
you half a dozen other objections that are just 
as valid." 

"Well," I said, "I guess I won't take a cruise." 
So I went out and bought the yawl Hippo- 
campus, which is as seaworthy a packet as ever 
sailed to the Spanish Main. 

Advice on Masts 

When the Hippocampus was going into com- 
mission in New Rochelle I learned the most dis- 
couraging things about her. In particular, her 
masts were too light for cruising in the southern 
seas. 

236 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

"What you want," said a neighborly yacht 
owner, "are shorter, thicker masts that will stand 
the shock of a sudden squall. If I were you I 'd 
take those spars out and replace them with sticks 
of at least two inches greater diameter. That 
six-inch mainmast is all right for protected cruis- 
ing, but down where you 're going it does n't pay 
to take chances." 

People talk of taking masts out of other 
people's boats as though they were lead-pen- 
cils. 

So I held the advice in abeyance, not having 
the money nor the time to refit the Hippocampus 
with heavier masts, and one morning about three 
months later it was returned vividly to my mem- 
ory. We were lying in Kingston Harbor, Ja- 
maica, and, at about ten o'clock, all hands were 
getting a last forty winks of beauty sleep when 
we heard sounds of a small boat being rowed in 
circles around the Hippocampus. Presently a 
salty voice smote the calm morning air. 

Said the voice, "Now here 's a boat that must 
have been built especially for tropical cruising. 
Most yachts that come down here from the States 

237 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

have masts that are much too heavy. Hers are 
of exactly the right proportions." 

"Good morning," I said, poking my head 
through the companionway. "How do you make 
that out? Up North they told me that her 
sticks were entirely too light for this region." 

"Not a bit of it," said the admirer of the Hippo- 
campus. "In the short, choppy seas we have 
down here, both in harbor and outside, the 
yachts with heavy spars shake themselves to 
pieces in no time. If you have light masts you 
can always reduce sail to save them. If your 
spars are heavy, you can never avoid that inces- 
sant pound, pound, pound that shakes the heart 
out of you and your yacht." 

"Thanks," said I. "There 's a certain savvy 
yacht owner up in New Rochelle who 'd like to 
correspond with you." 

My Humble Opinion of Yawls 

My experience in sailing before the cruise of 
the Hippocampus was confined to a short run in 
a sailing dory in Newport harbor and a seven- 
mile sail in a sloop in Bermuda. Consequently 

238 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

I do not pose as an authority in sailing matters. 
However, it is my humble opinion that the yawl 
is the ideal type of rig for long-distance work. 

As compared with the schooner she has one 
heavy sail instead of two, and this is desirable 
when it becomes necessary to lower on the ap- 
proach of a sharp squall. Moreover, a sea-going 
yawl can be built smaller than a schooner, which 
is a decided advantage when cost of operation 
and ease of handling are considerations. Be- 
tween a sloop and a yawl there is no comparison, 
because the yawl has all the advantages of the 
sloop and has, in addition, the jigger sail which 
is her distinguishing characteristic. This jigger 
permits one to trim sheets so that the yawl vir- 
tually steers herself. 

It may be said for the schooner that her sail 
area is reduced in proportion to the yawl's spread 
of canvas when double reefs are taken in both 
sails. Nevertheless, it takes time to reef sails, and 
time in small quantities is often of vital impor- 
tance. 

Perhaps it will be thought from my constant 
reference to them that I have squalls in the brain. 

239 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

My preference for boats which handle easily is 
not based on a fear of sudden puffs of wind, how- 
ever, but on my inherent love of leisure. 

When three or four men embark on a long 
cruise in a small boat the novelty of steering or 
trimming sheets wears off and sailing becomes 
a business. It never becomes monotonous busi- 
ness, because the sea and the weather are con- 
stantly changing; and it is always as much fun to 
put to sea and stay there as it is to put into harbor 
and stay there. Business though it is, sailing 
should never degenerate into a duty or a hard- 
ship; and the way to keep it out of either class 
is to arrange that all hands have their regular 
sleep. 

On a yawl this arrangement consists of set- 
ting the sails at night so that one man may stand 
his watch alone, -regardless of what comes in 
the weather line. If it is blowing hard at sun- 
down all hands may lower the mainsail before 
the night routine starts; and the man on deck 
can be satisfied that he can handle, unaided, any 
situation that may arise throughout his watch. 
The same applies in squally, unsettled weather, 

240 




Native craft loaded with produce and stranded at market time 
on the gently sloping beach of Panama City 




In the middle distance lies Hippo, at her journey's end; beyond 
her the misty islands of Panama Bay 




A United States cruiser approaching Culebra Cut, her ensign 
dipped in answer to the Hippo's salute 



Moored to a buoy .in Gatun Lake, Hippocampus has the air 
of giving as good as she receives 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

when it is calm one moment and blowing furiously 
the next. The jib and jigger are left standing; 
and while during periods of calm they do not 
slat about annoyingly or dangerously, they pre- 
sent sufficient sail area to carry the boat along 
nicely when a stiff breeze springs up. Only with 
the yawl rig can this ideal combination of enough 
canvas for headway and not too much for safety 
be effected. 

Weather in the Caribbean 
While on the topic of weather I may as well 
answer the burning question that has often been 
asked me with respect to sailing in the Caribbean 
in the summer season: "Is n't it too hot for com- 
fort in the tropics?" 

The answer is yes and no and depends on the 
kind of clothes you see fit to wear. If you want 
to dress yourself in a full consignment of gar- 
ments from stiff collar and necktie to spats and 
patent-leather shoes, it is too hot. But if you are 
contented with a bathing-suit by day and a 
flannel shirt and khaki trousers to slip over it 
at night, it is not too hot. Hardly a night passed 

241 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

when Hippocampus was south of the tropic of 
Cancer that the warmth of a blanket was n't wel- 
comed in our bunks or that we did n't relish the 
extra protection of a slip-on sweater during the 
mid-watch. 

I may add that I have never come nearer to 
freezing to death than on the afternoon when, 
off the south coast of Cuba, a sharp rainstorm 
caught me on deck with all my clothes off. My 
shipmate Squibb, who was in the same predica- 
ment, stuck it out, but at the risk of flooding the 
cabin I dived below and got myself into a full 
suit of sweaters and oilers. Ten minutes later, 
of course, the day was as hot as it had been cold ; 
but there was always the recourse of a cool dip 
over the side. 

The Friendly Sharks 

"Oho!" says the incredulous Northerner. 
"Did you dive over the side whenever the spirit 
moved you?" 

Well, strictly speaking, we did not. I have 
never seen a shark bite a man, and I have never 
seen a man who has seen a shark bite a man ; but 

242 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

I have heard of a thousand men who have seen 
a man who saw a shark bite a man. That 's 
rather complicated, but it 's enough for me. As 
recounted in a previous chapter, I had an expe- 
rience with a shark that made me still more 
wary, but even that did not keep us from 
trailing circumspectly from the bumpkin on 
occasion. 

The day we landed at Los Indios on the Isle 
of Pines, Cuba, I so far forgot my habitual cau- 
tion as to dive overboard to carry a mooring- 
line to a wharf jutting out into deep water. I 
clambered safely up, secured the line, and re- 
turned aboard to adorn my person again with 
wrist-watch and spectacles. And that short in- 
terval of time was all that a small Cuban boy re- 
quired to make the quarter-mile from shore to 
head of dock. 

"Hey," he cried, panting and gasping from 
his rapid running. "Sharko; malo." And he 
made the gestures of diving and swimming. 
From his haste and worried expression as much 
as from his words, I gathered that it was un- 
healthy to swim in those parts; and although 

243 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

subsequently we grounded the yawl and cleaned 
her sides in shoal water that was reasonably 
thickly populated with small, friendly hammer- 
heads, I never again played the role of water- 
spaniel in deep water. 

The Stupid Mosquito 

I was on the point of remarking that, just as 
I have never seen a man being nibbled by a shark, 
I have never seen a tropical mosquito thirst for 
human blood. But my reference to Los Indios 
reminds me that during our stay there we had a 
visitation from the little pests. 

After washing the Hippocampus' sides we 
sought advice from the port officer, the collector 
of customs, the health inspector, the dock fore- 
man, the steamship agent, and the mayor of Los 
Indios concerning the depth of water over the 
bar of the Indian River. He said there were 
six feet of water, and we believed him until we 
ran aground in four and a half feet. It was 
then that the mosquitoes descended on us and 
demanded our life's blood. But presently, 
when the tide had lifted six inches, we kedged 

244 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

off and anchored half a mile from shore. Those 
stupid mosquitoes returned to the jungle to feast 
on crocodile-hide and never again molested us 
during our stay in Los Indios. 

For fifteeen minutes in Bahia Honda on the 
north coast of Cuba, and for one night in Gatun 
Lake, Panama, we were also bothered by mos- 
quitoes; but on no other occasion after leaving 
Florida did we have the slightest need for screens 
or citronella. 

On my return home last autumn I met a man 
who had spent the summer almost as far north 
of New York as I had been south and he told 
me that well within the arctic circle he wore 
gloves, veil, and canvas leggings and was nearly 
eaten alive by mosquitoes. There 's a contrast 
for you. 

The Menace of Hurricanes 
When we put Hippocampus out of commis- 
sion in Panama and Squibb and Chambers em- 
barked for points south, I secured passage as a 
deck-hand aboard a Panama liner and worked 
my way north. And I worked. I learned the 

245 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

weight of a holystone as I never did in my hitch 
in the navy, and in eight days I suji-wujied 
enough paint- work to qualify me as a first-class 
paint-washer extraordinary. But that 's aside 
from the point. ! 

After four o'clock of each day we foremast 
hands were permitted to amuse ourselves, and 
as my chronometer, sextant, and books were in 
the safekeeping of the captain I used to wander 
up to the bridge and do a little unofficial navigat- 
ing. On the afternoon that we approached the 
town of Port au Prince, Haiti, the third mate, 
with whom I was talking, looked aloft and said 
there was trouble brewing. I looked up too and 
all I saw were a few ragged clouds with the same 
suggestion of pink on their edges that I had seen 
any number of times during the preceding three 
months. Being sane, if not weatherwise, I sti- 
fled the impulse to say that the sky looked fine 
to me. 

The next afternoon I read in my bunk after 
knocking-off time, and I was surprised to hear 
some of the crew talking at supper of having 
sighted Cape Maysi (the western end of Cuba) 

246 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

at a distance of about six miles. Now I knew 
that our course was carrying us fully twenty 
miles from Cape Maysi and I questioned one of 
the men with some particularity about what he 
had seen. He had made out, he said, a light- 
house as plain as the nose on his face (he had that 
kind of a nose) and had seen individual trees, and 
he supposed that for some reason the Old Man 
had changed course. 

That did n't seem reasonable to me and I was 
thoroughly mystified when, observing that the 
third mate was again on watch, I climbed to the 
bridge for information. 

"Hello," he said. "Remarkably clear weather 
we 're having. I sighted the tip of the mountain 
on Cape Dame Marie a while ago and that 's 
fully a hundred miles off." 

1 looked at the third mate and he looked at me, 
and I understood why Cape Maysi had seemed 
to the crew only six miles away. 

Just then the radio man came forward with a 
message from the captain, and that message read, 

Hurricane reported from Trinidad, moving west- 
northwest across the Caribbean. 

247 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

As that was as near as I came to the only 
hurricane that swept through the West Indies 
in 1921 I cannot qualify as an expert in hurri- 
canes. The ship was well out of its track and 
we felt only the mighty roll that it sent out hun- 
dreds of miles in all directions. For two days 
the deck-stewards were fairly busy with the pas- 
sengers, and then the sea flattened out as the dis- 
turbance passed away. But the next time I 
see a certain peculiar effect of clouds and light 
which is followed by a period of extremely high 
visibility, I '11 know better than to doubt the 
word of an old-timer who tells me that there 's 
trouble brewing. 

The Fly in the Ointment 

The menace of the hurricane is the only fly 
in the ointment of summer cruising in the Car- 
ibbean. Everything else you can get used to; 
calms, squalls, and even waterspouts; but you 
can't laugh away a big twister. I believe im- 
plicitly the words of a succession of sea-captains 
that it is only by a miracle that a small boat will 
live through a hurricane. 

248 



THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

Gales, these wise old dogs of the sea tell me, 
are nothing to snivel over; and the smaller you 
are, down to a certain limit, the better your chance 
of coming through unharmed. Although the 
sea builds up into mighty mountains, the waves 
move in a steady procession, and you can easily 
live through the chop that rides them. But in 
a hurricane the wind not only blows with a force 
sufficient to rip iron hatch covers loose from their 
fastenings, but the sea comes in from all direc- 
tions and piles up in a smother that will swamp 
even the tightest small boat. 

Nevertheless, I am less frightened of hurri- 
canes now than I was before I knew a solitary 
thing about them. In my guileless, unarithmeti- 
cal way, I used to read on the Pilot Charts that, 
say, 6 per cent, of hurricanes occur in the Car- 
ibbean in July, and 12 per cent, (or whatever it 
is) in August, and so on, and somehow I had a 
picture of six hurricanes waltzing across Jamaica 
in every seventh month of every year. But, 
bless me, that is not at all the case. They have n't 
had a hurricane in Jamaica for five or six years, 
and there are thousands of little piccaninnies 

249 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

running around naked who never even heard of 
one. 

If I say, as I should have said much earlier in 
this chapter, that the Caribbean is the best, the 
most satisfactory cruising ground that I Ve ever 
struck, from the points of view of temperature, 
scenery, freedom from inclement weather, and 
absence of insects, would n't you cruise there in 
summer on the off chance that no hurricane would 
hit you? I don't say that the menace of the hur- 
ricane ever leaves you. You are aware of it 
waking and sleeping, and when American con- 
suls and other weather sharps tell you wisely that 
a perfectly well-behaved, gentlemanly sort of 
day looks hurricany, you have to restrain the 
impulse to do murder. 

But I have never yet heard a yachtsman say 
that the mere awareness of possible danger 
detracted from his enjoyment of the moment's 
pleasure. Living in the vicinity of hurricanes 
you get used to them just as a city man gets used 
to mail-trucks and taxis, and neither the sailor 
nor the city man wears a mourning band around 

250 






THOUGHTS ON SAILING 

his sleeve because he may get picked off any 
minute. 

Besides all of which, news of hurricanes always 
comes by radio at least two days in advance, and 
it's surprising how far inland you can run in 
forty-eight hours. 

The Indispensable Motor 

I started this chapter with the intention of tell- 
ing what I had learned about sailing during a 
voyage of three or four thousand miles, and it 
has taken me right to the end of the space to say 
that I don't know much about it. When we 
started from New York and ran into our worst 
weather almost immediately, I knew less than 
nothing about handling a yawl; and if it had n't 
been for the skill of Chambers we should probably 
have ended the cruise there and then. But by 
force of example and under the buffeting of ex- 
perience I did pick up a trick or two ; and I think 
now as I thought when I was shrouded in abys- 
mal ignorance that sailing a small boat is easy. 

Of course the power that you pack away in 

251 



CRUISE OF THE HIPPOCAMPUS 

your auxiliary engine is what makes it easy. I 
used to be a motor-boatman, pure and simple — 
more or less pure and fairly simple. Now I am 
a sailboatman from the word go. But I am a 
motoring sailboatman, and when the wind dies 
and I find myself drifting stern first toward a 
rocky ledge I start the engine and get away 
from there. Similarly when it was proved by 
experiment that Chambers, excellent sailor 
though he is, endangered both Hippocampus and 
the port of Havana by making a landing under 
sail, we doused canvas and startled the natives 
with our skill as motor-boatmen. 

So if all hands will follow my twofold, double- 
acting advice of never putting to sea in a motor- 
boat that is unequipped with sail, or in a sail- 
boat that has no auxiliary engine, there '11 be no 
blood on my head. 



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